#but they have been pining themselves to distraction for WEEKS

[sonamytrash]

Distraction

AN: Based after the female titan arc where Levi injures his leg. Cute lil nurse reader and Levi come to terms with their mutual feelings after the scouts suffer such heavy losses. Smutty smut smut galore, enjoy! Divider by @cafekitsune

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x F!Reader, Levi x Nurse reader

Warnings: Sex, little bit of angst, mostly smut, handjob, fingering, sex, vaginal sex, female anatomy described, mutual pining, orgasm, creampie, dirty talk, Levi's office chair is humanities strongest chair, not proof read.

Levi sat at his desk, one hand propped up under his chin as he stared out the window, watching the rain patter against the glass. Levi ackerman's office was as austere as he was. It was a space that invited solitude, a retreat from the chaos of the world outside. And yet, even in this sterile environment, there was a certain air of... anticipation. A spark of life that Levi had not felt in a long time. He could feel it crackling in the air, dancing on the tips of his fingers, and whispering his name. It was not the wind, nor was it the rain that had been pounding against his window for hours. It was you. You were coming.

You were a welcome distraction from the current stres and grief he was plagued with these past few weeks. The gorgeous nurse with the sweet voice, gorgeous figure, and big doe eyes. He found himself looking forward to your visits amongst the chaos.

Levi couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been admiring you for. It seemed like every time you had to patch up any injuries or wounds, his gaze would unconsciously gravitate towards you. You were a beautiful woman with an alluring personality. He settled on the thought that he had been drawn to you for as long as he could remember.

Over the years, your relationship has evolved from one of a patient and nurse, to something more complicated. He wasn't sure what it was, but he knew it went beyond professional.

His thoughts drifted back to the last mission. His entire squad had been wiped out, amongst hundreds of others, and he was lucky to have made it back with just an injured leg. The memories of that day replaying themselves in a macabre loop in his mind.

He couldn't help but wonder how you would feel if he didn't make it back alive. Would you mourn his loss? Would you remember him as more than just another injured soldier you had tended to? The thought both terrified and thrilled him.

Levi leaned back in his chair and surveyed his office once more. The door was slightly ajar, and the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the hallway outside. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart, and straightened his posture. This was Levi ackerman, after all. He wasn't the type to get flustered or nervous. But he couldn't deny the butterflies in his stomach or the heat that had spread to his cheeks.

The footsteps grew louder, and then there was a gentle knock on his door. His heart leapt into his throat. "Come in," he croaked, his voice sounding strange and distant even to his own ears. The door opened, revealing a vision of loveliness that took his breath away.

"Good afternoon, Levi," you said, "I'm here to check up on that leg of yours." Your voice was as alluring as ever, like honey dripping from the tongue of an angel. You glanced briefly at his injured limb before looking back up at him. Even that simple action made him feel a strange fluttering in his chest.

As you walked over to him, your movements were fluid and graceful. Levi tore his gaze away from your curves and back to your face, not wanting to seem rude. You knelt down beside his chair, your eyes meeting his once more. "How's the pain been?" You asked, your voice low and soothing.

Levi swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. "It's... bearable," he managed to say. "Better than it was, at least." You nodded, studying him carefully. He felt self-conscious under your scrutiny, as if you could see right through him, as if you could read his mind that was plagued with desire and by thoughts of you.

You reached out your hand, your slender fingers gracefully curving over his knee. The contact sent a jolt of awareness through him, making his breath hitch in his throat. "I'll just take a look," you murmured, your voice low and soothing. Your touch was gentle but firm as you began to probe at his leg, feeling along the muscles and bones.

Levi closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sensation of your hands on his skin rather than the way your body brushed against his chair. It had been so long since he'd felt anything like this, and he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have you in the way he desired most.

"And how have you been, Captain?" You ask him, trying to initiate conversation sensing his tense body language.

He shrugged, looking away momentarily. "Oh, you know. Bored out of my mind. Nothing new." You giggle at his comment, and he felt the heat in his cheeks growing more intense at the adorable sound, his expression softening. "Is there anything I can tell you about the state of my leg that you don't already know?" He asks teasingly.

"It's healing nicely. You're making excellent progress." Your voice was soft and reassuring, "but I do want you to take it easy for a little while longer. No strenuous activity, alright? Or else." Your fingers danced over his knee again to examine the proximal area of his leg, sending shivers up his spine. He chuckles. "Or else what?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. You smirk playfully in response, "or else I'll come for you, I don't care if you're humanities strongest soldier." You pout playfully, trying to hide the fear in your eyes, thoughts of how he only narrowly returned from the recent scouting mission. "I'll come and find you and drag you back here myself." You said sternly. "Understood?." You ask, meeting his gaze, his lips curve almost into a smile, that answers his earlier question. Your face was etched with concern, concern for his wellbeing. Because if one day he didn’t come back, your heart would break.

You continued your examination, your fingers moving higher up his thigh. Levi's heart raced, and he could feel himself growing harder beneath his uniform. He tried to focus on something else, but it was impossible not to notice the way your breasts pressed against your uniform whenever you leaned forward.

"Though I do think you're ready for some light exercise," you said, your voice still soft. "Just to keep the blood flowing and help with the healing process." You paused, looking up at him with those eyes, those fucking eyes. "And," you added with a mischievous grin, "to make sure you don't get too bored sitting around all day."

"Well," he said, his voice slightly unsteady, "What did you have in mind?" He forced himself to meet your gaze, hoping his expression conveyed the interest and attraction he was feeling.

You paused your examination, hands resting gently on his thigh. Levi felt your eyes flicker down to where his uniform was straining, and he couldn't help but blush hotter, you had noticed. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't bring himself to break eye contact with you. There was something in your gaze that made him feel both vulnerable and strangely aroused.

"I see you're feeling a little warmer over here," you murmured, your voice low and teasing. Your thumbs slowly brushed against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, sending a shiver of pleasure through him. He could feel the heat rising in his face, and his breath came faster as you continued to touch him.

"That's understandable, considering the circumstances." Your thumbs traced light circles over his hardness, and Levi gasped, arching into your touch. You smiled at his reaction, your eyes glinting with mischief.

"But you shouldn't feel embarrassed." You continued, your hand palmed harder along his length, and Levi bit back a moan.

You smiled, eyes never leaving his as you lifted yourself to his level. You leaned closer, your breath warm against his ear. "I could help you feel better," you whispered. "If you'd like." Your hand slipped around to cup his groin, your thumb pressing against the tip of his erection.

"Fuck," Levi moaned, unable to contain the sound as pleasure coursed through him. He arched his back, pressing further into your touch. "Yes," he managed to croak. "Please."

With practised ease, you undid the buttons of his uniform, revealing his chest. Your touch was gentle but firm as you guided his shirt off, tossing it aside. His skin was warm and smooth beneath your fingers, and you revelled in the feel of him beneath your touch.

"You've been such a good patient," you continued, your voice a husky whisper. "I think it's only fair that I reward you."

Levi arched into your touch, a hiss escaping his mouth. He wanted more. He needed more. He reached up, threading his fingers through your hair and pulling you closer still, their lips mere inches apart.

"And you've been such a patient girl, waiting for me to come back in one piece all those times, patching me up each and every time. I'm sorry I've made you worry. It only seems fair that I return the favour...." He says, mimicking your words seductively with a tenderness you had never heard from him before.

You smile as you lean in, your lips brushing against his. The kiss was tentative at first, a mere flutter of your lips against each other. But as your tongues met and explored the depths of each other's mouths, the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and passionate

You leaned forward, your breasts brushing against his chest as you reached down to unfasten his pants. With practiced efficiency, you slid them off, taking his boxer briefs with them. Levi was left bare before you, his erection standing proudly, leaking pre-cum. You couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of his body, the way his muscles rippled beneath his skin. His gorgeous cock that had just the right amount of length and girth.

You watched him with a mixture of lust and tenderness, your eyes tracing the lines of his face and body. The way he responded to your touch made your heart race, the feel of his skin beneath your fingertips and the sound of his pleasure echoing in the quiet room.

You fingers tracing a circle around the head of his cock before wrapping your hand around him, stroking him slowly and gently. He arched his back, pressing into your hand, moaning softly. His hips began to move of their own accord, seeking release. Your expert touch sending waves of pleasure through him. Your fingers tightened around him as you began to stroke him faster. Levi groaned into the kiss, his hips bucking upward. "Y/n" he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I want you." He breathed. You smirked at his words as you straddled him in his seat, careful not to put too much of your weight on his injured leg.

"You have me, you've always had me, Levi." you whispered, your lips finding his neck. Your tongue darted out, tracing a line along his pulse point.

Levi growled in response, arching his back further into your touch. He wrapped his arms around you tightly as he kissed you again, your tongues tangling in a desperate dance. He felt your other hand against his chest, your nails digging into his skin, leaving little trails of pleasure and pain. The sensation only served to heighten his arousal, making him harder and hotter than ever.

You moaned into the kiss, your body moving in perfect synchronicity with his. Your hips now rocked against his, grinding against the thick ridge of his erection. You felt the warmth of him, the need in every thrust of his hips.

Levi's hands were everywhere, tracing lines of desire over your skin, his fingers leaving trails of heat in their wake. He nipped at your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine, and then soothed the sting with a tender kiss. You arched your back, pressing your chest flush against his, your breasts crushed against his muscled chest.

"Take off your clothes," he murmured, his voice rough with need. "Show me everything." There he was. The assertive, forward and absolutely fucking irresistible Captain Levi.

You felt your heart race as you gazed into his lustful eyes, your cheeks flushed, biting your bottom lip. Slowly, you reached up to undo the buttons of your blouse, revealing the underwear you wore beneath. You pulled the fabric off, letting it fall to the floor before he reached behind you and unclipped your bra. Your breasts, rosy and firm, were now on display, "Fuck." He groaned.

Levi's eyes never left your body as you continue to undress, his gaze traveling up and down, drinking in every inch of you. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He reached out to brush a thumb over your nipple, and you arched into the touch, a moan escaping your lips.

You began to undo the button of your pants, your hearts racing in anticipation. You pushed them down over your hips with your underwear, revealing all of your body. Levi's eyes darkened at the sight of you, and he reached out to touch you again, tracing a line down your stomach, over your mound, and finally to the center, where you were dripping wet for him.

Your breath hitched as his fingers made contact, and you arched your back. You whimpered his name, pressing yourself against his touch. His other hand moved to cup your bottom, lifting you up so that you were positioned over him.

"You're so wet for me," he growled, his voice low and husky. "I can't wait to feel you around my cock." He spread your wetness with his fingers, teasing your entrance, before finally slipping one inside.

As his fingers found their way inside you, you gasped, he cupped you, his thumb brushing against your clit,

"Oh, fuck," you moaned, your hips moving in time with his hand. The sensation of being filled by his fingers was overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. You felt yourself growing wetter, hotter, as he thrust his fingers deeper, curling them to hit just the right spot.

"You're so fucking tight," Levi groaned, his voice thick with desire. His fingers found your entrance again, slipping and sliding as they prepared your body for him. "L-levi," you moaned. He smiled against your skin, his free hand pinching and tracing lazy circles around your nipple. "That's it," he murmured. "Let me hear you." His other hand continued to work on your pussy, his fingers finding a rhythm that made you writhe and cry out.

He moved his fingers faster, harder, as he watched your face contort with pleasure. Your breasts heaved with each ragged breath, your nipples hard and begging for his attention. He took one between his lips, sucking gently before biting down softly, causing you to cry out his name again.

"Oh God, Levi," you moaned, your voice strained. Your inner walls clenched tight around his fingers, milking his touch, and he could feel your orgasm coursing through you. He increased the pressure on your clit, rubbing it in circles, his fingers still working you, slowly easing the intensity of the sensations.

He gently parted you r legs with his fingers, revealing your wetness to his gaze. "You're so beautiful," he murmured again, his voice low and husky. "So hot and ready for me."

You shuddered, your body still quivering from the intensity of your orgasm. You looked into Levi's eyes, your faces mere inches apart, "More," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He smirked at your words, "What was that? I couldn't hear you." He said teasingly.

You felt incredibly exposed and vulnerable with Levi looking at you like that, but it was also the most arousing thing you had ever experienced. His words sent a shiver of desire through you. "Please," you whispered, your hips moving in time with his hand. "I need you inside me, Levi."

Levi smiled, his eyes darkening with desire as he watched you respond to his touch. He withdrew his fingers from between your legs, only to grip your hips and pull you closer. His erection pressed against you, hot and hard.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked, his voice gruff with lust. You nodded, eyes locked on his, your fingers digging into his shoulders. With a groan, he positioned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed his length inside. You met his movements and lowered yourself onto him. Your body tightened around him, greedy for his cock and he let out a shuddering breath as he felt your heat engulf him.

"Fuck, you're greedy little pussy is sucking me right in." He says through gritted teeth. Trying not to cum there and then. You whimper at his words as he stretches you "I can't help it Levi," You say breathlessly "It feels so good."

He began to move, slowly at first, his hips meeting yours in a steady rhythm as you adjusted to each other. You arched your back, as you felt him filling you, stretching you in ways you hadn't even known were possible. You moaned his name, nails gripping his shoulders.

Levi's movements grew more assured, his body aligned with yours in perfect harmony. The sounds of your skin slapping together filled the room, a primal symphony of desire. You were so wet, so tight, it was almost painful for him to hold back any longer.

Your face was flushed with desire, as you surrendered to the sensation of being taken by him. Your breasts bounced against his chest, hips meeting his thrusts with a desperation that threatened to unravel him. You moved against him with a ferocity that both aroused and terrified him. He was lost in the feel and the taste of you, the sound of your moans filling the air. He gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your soft flesh in an attempt to steady you as he felt the familiar tugging deep in his core.

He gripped your waist tighter, feeling the muscles in your abdomen tensing and releasing as you rode him. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your fingernails digging into his shoulders as you tried to find purchase, to draw him deeper inside of you.

Your lips parted in a smile of pure pleasure, the way you moved against him, the sounds you made, the way you arched your back and cried out his name—it was all driving him closer to the edge.

Your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin, leaving tiny half-moons of red in their wake. He could feel you tightening around him, youer muscles tensing and releasing, your body moving in perfect harmony with his.

He could feel the heat emanating from you, the wetness that coated his fingers as he reached down and stroked your clit and your hips bucked harder against him in response to the stimulation.

"You're so fucking wet," he groaned, his voice raw with need. "I can feel you dripping onto my cock. You're killing me, baby." He thrust upwards harder, deeper, feeling you inner muscles clench and release around him in perfect rhythm. Your hips bucked wildly against him, urging him to continue.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his voice rough with need. "Your tight little cunt... It's like you were made for me." He thrust harder, faster, his cock sliding in and out of your wetness. Your breasts bounced with each movement, your nipples hard and aching for his touch.

"You're so big, Levi," you moaned, your voice low and throaty. "Your cock is making me loose my mind." You mewled. His cock throbbed within you at your words, filling every inch of your tight, wet warmth.

"You feel so good," you moaned, your voice thick with desire. "I can't believe how much I love your cock."

"God, you're so filthy," he growled, his voice rough with lust. "I love how much you want this." Your dirty little moans sent a shiver down his spine. Your hips began to move faster, your body undulating in a rhythm that was both primal and irresistible.

"Oh god, yes!" You cried out, your voice breaking. "Don't stop!" You begged him, he bucked his hips up, thrusting deeper inside of you, kissing your cervix with his cock. Your movements growing more urgent. He knew you were close.

"Fuck, that's it," he groaned, his hips thrusting harder as he continued to play with your clit. Your body trembled above him, your pleasure building to a fever pitch. He watched your face contort in ecstasy, eyes rolling back into your head as you came undone.

"Yes," you moaned. "Levi, I'm going to... I'm going to..." Your voice trailed off as your body gave in to the sensations washing over you. With a force that took him by surprise, your muscles contracting powerfully around him, your juices pudling where your bodies were connected, cries of pleasure filled the room as you came.

Levi felt your body tense, the muscles of your core grip him tightly, and with a final, powerful thrust, he cried out your name as he came, his hips bucking wildly, his cock pulsing deep inside you. You arched your back as you met his thrusts, your body shuddering with the force of your own orgasm.

Your bodies moved together in perfect rhythm, sweat-slicked skin sliding against each other. His cock twitched inside you as he emptied himself into your cunt. You leaned forward, your forehead resting against his, your chests rising and falling in unison as you both fought to catch your breath. Your eyes were wide and glassy with desire, lips parted in a soft, satisfied smile.

He traced a finger along your jawline, tracing the outline of your lips before cupping your face in his hand.

"I'm not going anywhere, I'll stay alive." he said, looking into your eyes. "I promise, even if I'm not in one piece, I'll come back to you, always."

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi aot #levi x y/n #levi smut #captain levi x reader #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #aot smut #fanfiction smut #levi ackerman fluff #levi fluff #fluff #aot fluff #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x y/n smut #levi ackerman x you

[inzaynety]

surprise? ⤫

➢ summary: no one expected yuuta to have a girlfriend

➢ content: yuuta x fem!reader; 2535 words; fluff; yuuta’s ability to pull girls is questioned 😪; sukuna hitting on you too ig

➢ notes: this is a rewrite from my old blog and it’s pretty refreshing to do one ngl, hopefully this reads a little better

Nobara sits leisurely on the lounge room’s couch with her fellow first years, watching as the second years huddle over a puzzle one had dug up from underneath their bed. At first she was staring into nothing thinking about when her next shopping trip would be and how she would drag the other two to carry her bags (they would go anyway, they had no choice when it came to her), but somehow her eyes land on the one upperclassman she doesn’t know all that much about. 

Sure, she’s spent time with Toge, Panda, and of course Maki, but she had only known Yuuta for a few weeks after his return to Tokyo Jujutsu High. Nobara likes to watch and observe people, and there was something about him that sort of bugged her. 

The reason? No clue.

“Careful. Think too hard and you’ll get hurt,” Megumi comments while Itadori snickers, Nobara glaring at the both of them without missing a beat.

“Shut up. I was wondering if you guys think Okkotsu-senpai’s attractive.” The two boys look at her and then each other in confusion. She realizes that they’re probably not the best people to ask, their obvious and painful pining in the way of everything else, but objectively speaking she would try to gauge Okkotsu’s status. He wasn’t a bad-looking guy, quite easy on the eyes, but he was a little awkward.

“Why’re you thinking about that?” Itadori’s tone isn’t condescending–just questioning. He too had some reservations about the upperclassman, considering their first meeting to not be so ideal. His complete 180 in personality did cause a bit of whiplash.

“Not sure, I mean, look at him.” The three direct their eyes to the special grade and he’s sitting in the middle of the others as they argue over the missing pieces that happened to disappear when nearing the end of the puzzle. He isn’t saying anything and only laughing along as his friends are exasperated with each other. His flustered face also seems to be his brand as that’s all Nobara’s been seeing. 

Heck, the other day they bumped into each other and he was stuttering out apologies when they barely brushed shoulders. A single paper from her arms fell on the floor from the wind let in by the open window. 

“He has no game. I’m betting on that right now.”

“Okay, I bet he does!” Itadori always bet on the opposite.

“You’re gonna lose, loser!”

“Nuh-uh, bigger loser!”

As Nobara and Itadori start their bickering yet again, Fushiguro thinks back to his morning. He could have slept in.

–

The first and second years are near the track continuing their training to finish off the day, but they got distracted and now Toge and Itadori were being swung in a circle by Panda.

“Maki-sannn,” Nobara drawls, leaning on the upperclassman as they sit on the steps watching the others. Maki hums in acknowledgement. “Do you know if Okkotsu-senpai has a girlfriend?” The older girl snorts and doesn’t hide her disbelief at her question.

“Of course not. Have you seen the guy?”

“But I thought Inumaki-senpai said you thought he was–”

“That was a stupid question. He asked a stupid question.”

Nobara leaves it at that and now it has Maki thinking about it.

–

Maki doesn’t find herself walking around the school that often if not for entering and exiting the school with Toge and Panda, or heading towards the track for training. But the latter didn’t need to go as far as the front gates. Honestly, it was a nice day and it would have been a waste to sit around inside even if it were just a few minutes. 

Though, she wasn’t expecting to see anyone else.

Gojo would have told them if a representative of the higher ups, or the higher ups themselves, would show up just so he could inform them to say Gojo-sensei’s not here or Sensei said to leave him alone. He found childish pride in the fact that his students could be the ones to stop those old geezers from interfering with his daily life, but it was at their expense so it usually ends with He’s just outside the door or Sensei! Get out from under the table!

But you didn’t look like them. If anything, Maki could deduce you were probably around her age but not before her eyes almost bulged out of her sockets upon registering who exactly it was she was looking at. While she didn’t know who you were, she didn’t mind it at that exact moment. One for a second though. 

Your expression was cold and stoic, not unlike their very own Fushiguro, but when your eyes meet hers, it’s replaced with a youthful cheerfulness that Maki swore she needed to cover her eyes from the brightness. 

“Hello,” you wave from the entrance. You thought it would have been a little rude to step in and walk around without a clue of where to go, so you opted for standing by while waiting for someone to arrive. In hindsight, maybe a surprise visit wasn’t the best idea. 

Your greeting was nice enough, if not a little nervous from the way you looked her up and down. Though, she wouldn’t deny that she gave you another once over herself. Her gaze was intense but it was hard to distinguish it from judging or curiosity.  To save the awkwardness and soon to come silence, you introduce yourself and state that you were looking for someone.

“A student? Or Gojo?” You laugh a little at the mention of the older special grade. He was quite a handful for every sorcerer who ever came across him. Maki’s eyes narrow and you’re a bit intimidated. 

“I’m looking for–”

“Kugisaki, come back! I need that!” Maki groans at the sound of the rowdy first years and whips her head over to see Nobara running with one of Itadori’s shoes, waving it in the air as she spewed out complaints of her own. 

“You lost my limited edition faux fur gloves! I’m not giving this back until you can find it!” 

Maki gestures for you to follow her and you oblige while watching the two have their fun. You could tell she wasn’t all that annoyed by them but you assumed it must be to keep up appearances.

“Reminds me of the first years back at my school,” you laugh and that’s when your walking companion starts asking you a few questions. 

On the short walk from the front to the building, she was able to get your name and occupation. It turned out that you were attending another school besides the one in Kyoto, which explained why you hadn’t been there for the exchange events, and were in the process of promoting another grade up. You don’t miss how her eyes dart back and forth from in front of her to your face. 

Anyone would have been able to say that you were attractive, you were never short of getting compliments when going out, and maybe she’s spent too much time with her teacher. He prided himself in his looks and while you were in the same boat, maybe she was just glad you didn’t flaunt it. It was refreshing and maybe it was alright to sneak a few glances here and there. 

When you finally reach the main building she’s forgotten the most important question you got interrupted in answering.

“By the way, who was it you were looking for again–”

“You’re an idiot!”

“I already told you I was sorry!” It was the two again and this time they came barreling from the other entrance from where you and Maki came from. The short haired girl had her arm wrapped around the boy’s throat, rubbing the top of his head vigorously with her fist. 

You eye Maki who still didn’t look amused and only then did you notice there were more students in the room and they were staring right at you. Raising a hand you wave at them…and a panda. It seemed they meant to welcome back their classmate but were surprised to see you accompanying her. Turning back to the scene in front of you, it was suddenly silent and you were the center of attention.

“So Maki,” the panda says, “who’s your new friend? Hi, I’m Panda.” Fitting.

Introducing yourself, you receive a monotime hello in response. However, their town doesn’t match their expressions; their attention is definitely not on something, or someone, else. Maki notices this and pinches the bridge of her nose before pointing at everyone.

“Emo’s Megumi, pinky’s Itadori, Nobara, and Toge.” There’s a quiet murmur of emo and pinky from their respective parties. Your eyes land on the most familiar one in the room, giving a kind smile and wave to Inumaki who seems to have kept his attention on you.

“Kombu.” He waves back and makes a motion to jab a finger down the hallway, giving you a message everyone else was unsure of. You nod in response after figuring it.

“You guys know each other?” Itadori speaks up as he just manages to get out of Nobara’s hold. 

“Was it Toge you were looking for–” Maki is interrupted when Nobara stalks up to you. Her expression is unreadable but there is an undeniable sparkle in her eyes.

“Hi–”

“You’re very pretty, did you know that?” She says out of the blue and it was so sudden you couldn’t help but feel warm in your face. 

“Thank you,” you say and she seemed pleased with the response. Again, probably thankful you were full of yourself like a certain blue-eyed, white-haired man. “ I hope you guys don’t mind if I wait here?” It’s more of a question to make sure you’re not pressuring them. A stranger coming in out of nowhere is strange, but the students don’t seem to be opposed to it from their quick responses. 

“No, no!”

“Definitely not!”

“Yeah, you can stay.”

“We still don’t know who she’s waiting for. But yeah”

“Shake.”

Within seconds, you’re swept onto the couch and in between the first duo you saw. They’re asking you just general questions, Panda, Nobara, and Toge, even though he already knows you, listening with their full attention. Even Fushiguro’s paying less and less attention to his phone and subtly looking over at you at periodic intervals. 

All is well and good; you feel like you’re making more new friends, but a new question pops up: “Hey, you single?” Everyone stops and heads turn to Itadori who looks just as shocked as they do. He’s already one step ahead though, a hand slapped over his cheek to cover the mouth that had popped out. 

You stare confused for a moment before snapping your fingers. “You’re the Sukuna guy!” You inwardly recoil from your choice of words but Itadori doesn’t look at all bothered by them. In fact, he’s giddy that you know who he is even if it’s in a not-so-favorable-way. It is a little concerning though when he places his hand down and there’s a smirk on the mouth on his cheek, mouthing some words you would rather not remember.

“Okay,” Maki stands up and directs her attention right at you, “before I can get interrupted again,” her glare is directed particularly at the first years. Megumi mutters a what did I do under his breath but is shut up by her look, “who’s the person you’re looking for?”

“Oh!” You beam upon remembering the purpose for your visit. “I’m visiting–Yuu!” You jump up from your spot upon seeing a familiar figure walking down the hall. You waste no time in throwing yourself in his arms when he passes the doorway and he laughs, wrapping them around you to bring you into a tighter hug. You stay like that for a bit, matching bright smiles on both of your faces. 

“I missed you, angel,” He says fondly and you smile up at him.

“What the hell?” It’s only then you both remember the audience and Yutta freezes, turning his head slowly to catch their faces. Itadori (and Sukuna), Nobara, and Panda have their jaws to the floor while Maki and Megumi are conflicted on whether to feel surprised or not.

Only then does Maki remember Nobara’s question from earlier in the week. 

The only one not shocked is Inumaki who was sitting back on the couch with his arms crossed. He nods his head to gesture to his friend to explain. “Tuna mayo.” The others stare at him. 

“You knew?” He nods. He did want to poke fun and try not to reveal the truth after hearing around that Yuuta could in no way get a girl. He wanted to laugh and reveal it in a note or something but everyone’s surprise was too good to pass up. It was only a few months ago that his close friend introduced you, but that didn’t mean his initial surprise waned. Sometimes he thinks it’s a joke until Yuuta gets a text from you. 

“Mentaiko.”

“Ah,” Yuuta finally speaks up, “she’s my girlfriend?”

“Is that a question or an answer?” He flinches at the voices of Maki and Nobara, but to be fair, everyone else in the room was more or less wanting to know how the hell he managed to get someone like you.

“No offense, Okkotsu-senpai,” Nobara starts, pointing at him, “but she’s gorgeous. How?”

“W-What do you mean how?” He was indeed a little offended by the disbelief he sees and from his side you let out a laugh in amusement at the whole situation. You knew your boyfriend wasn’t the most bold or confrontational outside of sorcery settings, he was a bit timid and shy but he always meant well. Even now his hold on you hasn’t left, hands resting on your waist as more comments of confusion dart out from his friends. 

You take it upon yourself to hold one of his hands and bring it up to your face, kissing his palm. “Because he’s Yuuta.” It’s pretty cheesy but the way you look at him which has the others mostly putting to rest their questions. Yuuta’s face reddens before he takes a hold of that same hand you grasped him with, pulling you along to his room. 

“It was nice meeting you all!” You call back, their presence slowly drowned out by the both of you, all unintentionally as you catch him up on the promotion and whatever else. Yuuta just likes hearing you talk. 

The others could do nothing but wave in your direction as you went.

–

Bonus:

After retreating to his room, the rest sat there without uttering a word, mindlessly playing cards as they gathered their thoughts. They’re only brought out of them when footsteps are heard down the other hall and come to a stop in the room. 

“What’s going on here?”

“Sensei,” Itadori calls out, “did you know that Okkotsu-senpai has a girlfriend?”

“She was hot.” He slaps his cheek again.

From the look on Gojo’s face, he didn’t. And none of them wasted the opportunity to follow him as he made it a mission to knock down Yuuta’s door to meet you too.

#okkotsu x reader #yuuta x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk fics #jjk scenarios #okkotsu yuuta #fics

[gg-pedro]

can you hear the music (ch. 1) - joel miller x reader

masterlist

even here, at the end of all things, some things persisted. one thing in particular, throughout all the places you had been. music.

summary: everyone in jackson is trying to distract themselves from something. you teach ellie piano and find yourself trying to help more than one miller settle into their new world.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson!era, platonic!ellie x reader, implied age gap, joel x reader, AFAB!reader, they kiss lolz, smut to come, pining, feelings.

words: 1.8k

a/n: a little sweet, a little bitter, a little self indulgent. I'm planning on this being a series! I hope you enjoy. warning tags only apply to this chapter.

-

Two knocks. Three. More knocking, hushed squabbling from outside your door. You got up from your seat at the kitchen table, a piling mess of sheet music and scribbled notes.

Opening the door revealed your newest student, Ellie, looking very much like Joel was leading her to the gallows with that scowl on her face. 

“Can we just get this over with? I’m fucking hungry.” Ellie pushed past you, shrugging off her coat and kicking off her boots. 

“I’m sorry… ‘bout her. She likes doin’ this, I swear. Always comes back talking about it. Just give her some time to warm up to you.”

Joel had this particular look on his face whenever he talked about that little girl. His dark eyes would soften and he’d push a hand through his graying hair, his thoughts seeming like they were somewhere else entirely from his surroundings. The most he ever said to you was about Ellie. Everything you knew about Joel was from Ellie, naturally.

He was from Texas. He was fairly older than you– you didn’t have much experience from when it was before the end of the fucking world. He sounded tightly wound. He could play the guitar, and he’d taught Ellie a few things. Once, she’d said that he only liked piano music if Billy Joel was playing it, whoever that was. That made you laugh.

You gave him a thin smile, crossing your arms over your chest to ward off the draft that was blowing through the open door. “I know. She’s a great kid, I can tell she wants to learn. I think it helps her– you know, keeping busy.”

Joel met your eyes for the first time since the conversation had started, something painful and poignant seeping into his expression. 

“Yeah. I think so.” He was quiet for a few seconds before looking straight over you to grab Ellie’s attention. “I’ll be back in an hour. I’m down the street helpin’ Tommy with that old building. Be good,” he warned, before giving you a grateful nod and turning back. 

And that was your routine. Joel was usually short with you, a little quiet, a little shy. You thought he was a sweet man– and a painfully attractive one at that. All southern and rough, broad shouldered, puppy-dog eyed. He seemed like he would do anything to keep that girl safe. You were glad the community had someone like him.

You had started teaching Ellie a few weeks after they had settled into Jackson. It was mostly because of Maria’s recommendation, who you were fairly close with. Ellie had hated taking lessons from you more vehemently in the beginning, but the more you worked at it, the more comfortable you saw her get. 

“Come on, kid. This is good for your brain,” you would say, beckoning her to sit next to you on the piano bench. 

She scoffed, but yet she obliged. “This is dumb. I could be doing something useful. Like shooting guns.”

“Art is as important, Ellie. More important than shooting guns. For you, anyway."

Her fingers tapped gingerly on the keys and she played a scale they had learned the week before. “How would you know? You aren’t even old,” she countered. “How long have you been playing?”

You glanced over at the clock. You two were wasting time, but at least she was talking. “My whole life, give or take. I tried to hold onto it whenever I could. It was my favorite thing in the entire world.”

She nodded, seeming to understand. “That’s cool. I get why Joel likes you.”

You didn’t think Joel was someone who particularly liked you. He didn’t dislike you, clearly, but if he had given any hints, they had been falling on deaf ears. You tried your best to keep your expression neutral. “And why’s that?”

She giggled to herself as she flipped through the pages of her sheet music booklet. “‘Cause you’re both fucking weird.”

You laughed too, punching her gently in the arm. “Fair. Now stop stalling and play me whatever you remember.”

Life was special nowadays. More precious than it ever had been. You would have to cherish moments like these. Loss was all around, and loving always risked the hurt. You were really, really fucking tired of hurting. 

-

Walking back to your home, trudging through the snow, you were tired. Working in Jackson’s small clinic was easy enough, but it was draining. You saw to children mainly, bandaging up wounds and dosing out rations of antibiotics when needed. The kids liked you, the parents liked you, and that was rewarding, but plastering on a smile and a light-hearted tone all day sometimes felt like too fucking much. 

So naturally, you were ready to pick a fight when you felt a broad hand consume your shoulder. 

You turned around to match the disembodied hand to a face, only to see Joel Miller. He looked tired, more tired than you, and a little sad. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t tryin’ to scare you. I saw you, and I…” He paused, looking down at the two sets of footprints that had outlined both of your paths. “Ellie isn’t feeling well. I think it’s best she skips y’alls lesson tomorrow.”

She released the breath she'd been holding. For some reason, he had the tendency to precede the things he said as if he was about to tell you that the world was ending. Again.

“That’s fine, don’t worry about it. Is she alright?” 

“Yeah, she’s alright. This whole things a big fuckin’ adjustment, and I… I worry she’ll push herself too much if nobody stops her,” he explained. “She’s been with Maria all day. But yeah, she’ll be okay.”

Ah. He was worried about her. It seemed like he was always worrying about her. “I understand. Can’t imagine what it must be like for her. And you.”

She’ll push herself if nobody stops her. Who stopped Joel? Who looked out for him? His brother, surely, but was it like that? Did those two, hardened and stretched thin, have the time to be concerned about things like that? How long had he just been… going?

You reached a hand out to touch his upper arm, rubbing it a little before pulling away. “You’re a good man, Joel. I really think that, and I hope you know it.”

He laughed a little at that. “I haven't done any good, trust me on that.”

You dropped your gaze and looked away. You knew that everyone here, without a shadow of a doubt, had done things they weren’t proud of. Things they never would’ve done if not at the end of the world.

You were maybe 20 steps from your front door, standing out in the Wyoming cold with him. You tried to meet his eyes before speaking again, but he wouldn’t face you. 

“Come in. Please, I insist. Warm up, I just traded for coffee.”

He looked like he was fighting with himself for a few seconds, raising his head and looking off to the side. “Yeah, alright. Why not.”

-

Joel Miller was sitting in your living room, sipping from a mug so carefully that you’d think he was afraid he’d break it. The fire was lit and casting warm shadows across the dim room. It was endearing. You hadn’t felt like this in a lifetime. 

“I couldn’t do it. What you do. Dealing with all those kids,” he said after a long lapse of quiet.

You shrugged, sipping on your own cup. “I love it. I never thought I’d have the chance to play music again, much less teach. It’s not perfect, but it's something,” you said. “Ellie tells me you play guitar.”

Joel rolled his eyes and finally sunk back into his chair instead of hunching over. He groaned a little as he did it, as if he stored all of his tension in his back. “Yeah, used to. I ain’t good at it anymore.”

“But you used to be?” You pried.

He finally looked at you, his eyes infinitely more dark in this light. “Maybe. Don’t think I’d be able to forget how to play even if I tried, so might as well put it to some use.”

You smiled. “I know. Funny how things stick with you. Muscle memory.”

He nodded. “Somethin’ like that.”

And it was true. There were lots of things neither of you would forget how to do, no matter how much time had lapsed in between the before and the now. And sure, most of what you had learned happened after the world had ended, but that was irrelevant. The most important things had always been there. You’d known how to love for your entire life.

His eyes wandered over to the old upright piano situated on the wall in the living room. “Is she any good on that thing?” He asked.

You thought about Ellie, who would curse everytime she slipped on a scale, who would argue fervently about how that squiggly shit on the sheet music could possibly mean anything, who learned faster than any of your other kids.

“She is. She’s impressive. She picked up Old McDonald Had a Farm like that.” You grinned, snapping your fingers for effect. 

He smiled thinly, his mind clearly somewhere else. “Explains why she won’t stop humming that shit. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“My pleasure, Joel.” You laughed. “You finished with that?” You gestured to his empty mug.

“Yeah. Hey, I’ll help you.”

You were elbow to elbow with each other at the sink, cleaning out the liquid and the scattered coffee grounds from the bottoms of your respective cups. Joel took yours and placed it on the drying rack, wiping his hands off with the towel you passed to him.

You leaned back against the island as he turned his back to the sink. He was so tall, so rugged, so handsome. His age only added to it. He had a softness around his eyes now, his features slightly obscured by the absence of much light.

“Should probably take off… Thank you. For the drink,” Joel began.

“Don’t thank me, I’d do it anytime. Tell Ellie that I hope she’s feeling better soon.”

He nodded, and he swallowed. He wasn’t making any moves to leave, save for his eyes on the door. They flicked back to you, watching you, scanning you up and down until he finally said, 

“You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart, lookin’ at me like that.”

You weren’t really sure of how it all happened, but in an instant your bodies were pressed together with your lower back digging into the dull edge of the island counter, Joel’s lips pressed to yours like he was seeking oxygen.

His free hand felt up your body, and your skin was on fire. A match thrown onto a pool of gasoline. Everything was electric. He kissed you like he’d learned it in another life, back when love was free, when forever was a tangible thing, when strings weren’t attached. You felt it all on your lips and tongue, in the bonfire that was being fanned in your abdomen.

When he stepped back, you pulled him in for more. The opposite reaction to the Earth pulling down on you is you pulling the Earth back up. You tangled your hands in his soft hair, and his dug into the fabric of your jeans on your hips.

You both came up for air after a while, having migrated to the entrance of the kitchen. He had you backed up against the beam of the open doorway, tucking both sides of your hair behind you ear to see your face.

"Shouldn't be doing this," he mumbled, nipping at the warm skin on your neck.

"Maybe not," you conceded. I didn't mean you couldn't want it– what he could give you. You'd all done wrong things. "You could still stay."

"Yeah," he responded, pressing his body against yours and sweeping a hand over to cradle your lower back. "Still could."

Maybe it wasn't a lie. Maybe that glassy, far off look wouldn't be permanent. It could be like this. You could have a reason.

And yeah, maybe Joel knew more than he let on. Some things never really left him.

-

#joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal x reader #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou #thou hbo #Ellie miller #Joel miller tlou #the last of us fic #tlou fanficiton #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #Pedro pascal fic #joel miller x y/n #Joel miller smut #Pedro pascal smut #pedrito #tlou hbo

[lilliumrorum]

What does he have that I don’t? (Part three)

<<Previous | Masterlist | Next>> Synopsis: You step away from sparring, needing a moment to tend to yourself after fantasizing about your captain. Later on, your heart battles with the choices that present themselves.

WC: 4.1k

Content/Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Soft Price, fluff, Cheating, Pining, Masturbation, Oral (M!Receiving), Cum play (I think), Johnny is a whore

Notes: Part four is already in the works!! Been extremely busy the past week but I’m free now! Sorry!

Acknowledging your want to avoid interactions with Simon or Johnny, your captain chose to engage in a sparring session with you. Rather than responding to your form with frustration or criticism, he adopted a gentle and supportive approach. Using his hands, he skillfully adjusted the positioning of your arms, accompanied by encouraging words like, "There, Sergeant. It's easier when you move it this way."

Yet, your focus on Price's teachings was short-lived, disrupted by the growls emanating from Simon as he engaged in a sparring match across from both of you. The sounds of his physical exertion filled the air, creating a contrasting backdrop to the magnetic tension with him. Despite the distracting noise, the intertwined dynamics of the sparring session and the compelling gaze heightened the sensory experience, making the moment charged with both anticipation and the raw energy of the ongoing duel.

A palpable intensity hung in the air as Simon's burning gaze fixated on you. It felt like an unspoken invitation, a magnetic force compelling you to meet his eyes. The unrelenting pull was palpable, beckoning you to turn and lock gazes with him. In that charged moment, the dialogue between your eyes and Simon's created a captivating dance of emotion, the unspoken language of feeling weaving its intricate threads in the shared space between you.

"eyes off the lass, we've got to focus Lieutenant, otherwise yer gonnae lose!" Soap teased.

Simon vigorously shook the lingering thoughts of you from his mind, a steely resolve taking root in his eyes. Emitting a determined grunt, he plunged into the sparring session with Johnny, channeling a heightened determination. Every motion unfolded with exacting precision, as though his dedication had materialized into a palpable force pushing him onward. The resonance of their sparring mirrored the fervor of Simon's commitment, underscoring the undeniable intensity and unwavering determination propelling him through each exchange.

In the heat of their sparring session, Simon and Johnny intensified their exchange, throwing fists back and forth with a rhythmic precision. The air crackled with noise as each punch found its mark, and retaliatory strikes followed in quick succession. The tempo shifted abruptly as they transitioned into a sequence of grappling, both of them attempting judo takedowns with calculated determination. Bodies twisted and turned, each striving for the upper hand in a contest of strength and technique. The training room echoed with the sounds of their efforts, the clashing of limbs and the determined grunts blending into a symphony of martial prowess. The takedown attempts added a strategic layer to their dynamic exchange, showcasing not only their striking abilities but also their proficiency in the art of sparring.

“You’ve got to focus too, love.”

Your gaze shifted to your arms, both wrists in your captain’s skilled hands.

The fragments of the dream began to weave themselves into your conscience. It wasn't that you disliked the events within it; rather, an uneasy feeling persisted, making it increasingly challenging to be around him. The dream's influence seemed to seep into reality, leaving you a heated mess. But his hands were around you. His hands were around you.

His tongue roamed your aching clit as his thick, scarred fingers pumped in and out of your sopping wet core.

“You taste… god… I can’t get enough..” He muttered to himself.

You tried to move away, the pleasure becoming all too much. You were shaking, mind turned to mush as you watched your Captain feast on you like a man starved.

“Stay still, I need to taste you.” He demanded. He wasn’t taunting, teasing or anything of the sort. The only thing that seemed to give him pleasure was pleasuring you. You snaked your hands down to push him off, overstimulated from cumming two times already. A quick hand wrapped around your wrist, firmly securing it and pushing it against the mattress.

“Do that again and I’ll have to tie you up, sergeant.” His words held an element of truth.

But you couldn’t help it. His mouth felt like heaven, and the friction his mustache gave off made it feel ten times more euphoric. You could feel the scratching of his mutton chops on the insides of your thighs, squeezing them closed every time he hit that spongy spot inside of you.

Your free hand fisted the sheet, looking for something to being you back down to reality, something to ground you.

“Not Stoppin’ till you cum. One more, darlin’ I need it. Give it to me, please.”

You felt the familiar sensation slowly making its way to you, causing your walls to flutter.

“John!”

“That’s right, ‘is me. I’m doin’ this to ya.”

Legs quivering with an unparalleled intensity, your entire body tensed up, muscles flexing as you inched closer and closer to the edge.

“John! John it’s close! I’m close!”

”Just let go. I want you to cum. Cum again. You can do it.” His hand moved up from your wrist and into yours, fingers intertwined.

Your saccharine voice flooded his bedroom, no longer caring if anyone else had heard you. He stared up at you with his deep blue eyes, taking in every part of your body as he continued his ministrations on your cunt.

“John! Oh- God!!” You cried out as your hand squeezed his.

He rose up from the center of your legs and you swore you’ve never seen a sight more beautiful. His face flushed from lack of air, beard and chin covered with your slick, and a cocky grin plastered across his face.

“Thas’ it. My good fuckin’ girl. So good for your captain, always followin’ his orders.”

“Your good girl, just for you John. All for you.” You babbled, drunk off of the intoxicating orgasms he had gifted you.

“I think it’s time for your reward, dear. What do you think?” He teased.

His hand freed itself and moved to his trousers, his tent evident as he cupped it through his pants.

“Yes! Yes, please!” You begged, hoping that he would finally give you his cock.

“Alright then.”

“sergeant? Sergeant are you alright?” He whispered, his face adorning a worried look.

“Uh- yeah! Of course I am!”

His eyebrow quirked up, almost as if to say ‘You sure about that?’

“Actually… is it alright if I go to the ladies room?”

He leaned in close to you, an action Simon found suspicious. He glanced at your former lover.

“If it’s about him, you’re free to go back to my room, love.”

You thought about it, maybe that was exactly what you needed. Not because of Simon, no, but because of the lustful thoughts that plagued your mind. Christ, you couldn’t even meet your captain’s gaze without becoming a flustered mess.

”I think I’ll do that. Thank you, Price.”

He nodded in response, shifting his attention to Kyle, who had just returned from his exasperating run looking like a sweaty mess. Your figure slowly retreated, and simons eyes trailed you as you walked back to the building. The urge to follow you, to discover the contents of your conversation with Price, gnawed at him intensely. However, he found himself restrained; the watchful gaze of his captain bore into him like a hawk, preventing him from acting on his curiosity.

Simon harbored a desire to figure you out, pledging to find out the truth one way or another. As he watched you disappear, a noxious and festering feeling took root in his chest, intensifying the urgency of the said desire. The need to understand what unfolded between you and Price fueled his resolve, overshadowing the ominous sensation that clung to him. Despite the rotting unease, Simon steeled himself for the impending investigation, ready to confront the secrets that held themselves in the air.

Who were you going back to? Why did price just let you walk off like that? How is that fair to everyone else? Was he seeing you?

The suspicion that Price might have a more intimate connection with you added complexity to Simon's internal turmoil, intensifying his need to uncover the truth.

“I’m gonnae win Lieutenant! Knew I’d be be quicker than yae!”

The challenge from Mactavish was enough to spur him from his thoughts for now, but John was going to be under his scrutiny for a while.

You felt like such a disgusting person, having your hand slowly creep under your pants as you laid there in his bed.

Everything smelled just like him too, turning you on tenfold. The way his abs laid under that thin (yet still existent) layer of fat was delicious. You’d imagined what it would feel like pressed against the back your thighs as he bottomed out inside you. The impact of his heavy balls smacking against your ass as he groaned into the crook of your neck.

You tried to curl your fingers the way John did in your dream, but they were too short and failed to reach the right spot. Your hips rocked desperately at your hand, your fingers trying their best to pleasure you. The pleasure never came.

You started rubbing your clit, hoping for some kind of release, yet got none.

“Fuck!” You cried out in frustration, craving your orgasm now more than ever.

You wished it wasn’t a dream, that he really did fuck you like your life depended on it. Slamming his hips into yours, his pubic hair touching your clit with every thrust. Rutting into your cunt like there truly was no tomorrow.

John price was your craving, akin to an unhealthy obsession, maybe even an addiction. You knew that he he would probably be extremely uncomfortable with the obvious age gap, but what was so wrong with it? It’s not like you were a child (Even though he calls you kid). You were an adult, and should be treated as such. You were young, so what?

Simon was much older than you as well. John was just more… mature. Something about him left your legs shaking and your panties wet whenever he entered the room. He had undeniably aged like fine wine. Having glimpsed old pictures of him and his former teammates on the walls of his office, you acknowledged his attractiveness back then. However, the passage of time had only enhanced his appeal, making him even more alluring now.

A sigh escaped your mouth as you gave up, retracting your hands from your pants, exhausted after working for half an hour at an unachievable goal.

Dressed in comfortable yet suitable attire for John's room, you strolled to the kitchen. Driven by hunger and determination, you explored the fridge for leftovers or ingredients and simultaneously checked the cabinets for spices to enhance the flavor of your culinary creation.

Exploring culinary options, the idea of preparing a Shepherd's Pie caught your attention, enticing your taste buds. Envisioning layers of savory delight, you imagined a foundation of seasoned ground lamb cooked with onions, carrots, and peas, bathed in a rich, flavorful gravy. Crowned with a lavish layer of creamy mashed potatoes, baked to a perfect golden hue, the dish promised a harmonious blend of tender lamb, hearty vegetables, and velvety mashed goodness. Enhanced with aromatic herbs such as rosemary and thyme, the kitchen would be filled with an alluring fragrance as the pie bubbled away in the oven.

The anticipation of savoring each forkful, experiencing a medley of textures and flavors from the silky mashed potatoes to the robust lamb filling, made opting for a Shepherd's Pie an irresistible decision, ensuring a truly delightful and comforting meal for you and John.

You quickly got to work, washing your hands before grabbing the ingredients.

With the vision of a delectable Shepherd's Pie firmly planted in your mind, you eagerly gathered all the essential ingredients. The aroma of fresh rosemary and thyme filled the air as you skillfully seasoned the ground lamb, sautéed onions, carrots, and peas to perfection. The kitchen buzzed with the comforting sounds of preparation as you crafted a rich and flavorful gravy, ensuring every spoonful would be a taste sensation. With precision, you layered the sumptuous lamb mixture into the dish, topping it generously with creamy mashed potatoes.

The symphony of colors and textures hinted at the delightful feast awaiting. As the Shepherd's Pie slowly baked, the kitchen became a haven of anticipation, the air thick with the irresistible scent of a home-cooked masterpiece. Finally, with the golden crust achieved, you triumphantly pulled the Shepherd's Pie from the oven, ready to savor the fruits of your culinary labor.

With the Shepherd's Pie masterpiece now complete, your attention turned to the presentation. Carefully slicing through the golden crust, you revealed the layers of savory goodness within.

Placing generous portions on each plate, you artfully arranged the creamy mashed potatoes and flavorful lamb filling. A sprinkle of fresh herbs on top added a final touch of elegance. The vibrant colors and enticing aromas transformed the plates into a visual and olfactory delight.

Perhaps a side of crisp green salad or a drizzle of gravy adorned the edges, enhancing the aesthetic appeal. Each plate was now a feast for the eyes as well as the stomach.

As you meticulously set the beautifully plated Shepherd's Pie on the table, a fleeting thought crossed your mind about what John might think of the lunch you made.

The table now adorned with a visually appealing and inviting meal, the curiosity about how Price would perceive your effort added an extra layer of anticipation to the dining experience.

You heard the door unlocking, silently shaking out of nervousness and excitement, hoping he would like your meal. Silently, you shook off the nerves, hoping that Price would appreciate the effort you put into preparing the Shepherd's Pie.

The aroma wafting through the air was a prelude to the meal you crafted, and as the door opened, your anticipation and hope for a positive response intensified.

“Love? What-” He took in the scent of the pie, eyes darting to the plates and then to yours.

you wondered what he was thinking.

After Price wrapped up the training session with Gaz, exhausted from sparring with the both of you, he decided to head back to the room for a brief respite.

Even though he was seasoned by years of military service, his plan was simple – a quick snack and a moment to unwind. Yet, there was an underlying hope that you would be awake when he returned to the room, providing an opportunity for a meaningful conversation after the rigorous training session.

Upon opening the door, he was met with the delightful aroma of a dish from his youth. The fragrance alone was captivating, and seeing you standing by it with a smile, eagerly awaiting his reaction, intensified the pounding of his heart in his chest.

he envisioned a life away from all of this, out of the hands of war. He had a family with you, came home to you every night. There was something so domestic about you cooking for him, and it made him an even bigger sucker for you.

“Sorry if you didn’t want the lamb being used, I wanted to surprise you. I’ll pay you back if needed!”

Pay him back? You just made him a delicious lunch and you think he wants you to pay him back?

“No dove, ‘was going to go to waste sooner or later. Really appreciate your Cookin’” He exerted himself while settling into the dining chair.

”Thought you would be hungry after sparring with both of us, you should really take better care of yourself, John.”

“Jus’ like a wife.” Those words ran to his lips before he could stop his tongue.

Your face contorted into an unreadable expression, eyes widening at the sentence that slipped from his mouth. He covered it up with an awkward laugh, hoping to make the situation less uncomfortable.

“I’ll… be right back.”

He was frustrated. Why would he go and say something so stupid? Why did he even think of it? The idea crossed his mind, but you had no interest in being with someone like him.

He watched as you sped down the hall and into his bathroom, unable to read your face. He reluctantly stuck his fork into his slice, taking a small bite and savoring the delicious taste.

Hopefully you’ll think he was joking about what he said. He wasn’t though.

Imagining a life together, he pictured you eagerly embracing him after deployment, showering him with affectionate kisses. You practically dragging him to your living room as you told him all about what happened while he was gone, asking about the others.

He wanted you out of this hellhole. You were far too kind for a life like his.

“So? How do you like it? Does it taste alright?!” You inquired.

Your unexpected entrance disrupted his thoughts, causing him to jerk in his chair before responding.

“You make a hell of a pie darlin’.”

“I tried to make it tasteful, first time I ever made it.”

“That’s an excellent first try, I’ll say.”

Observing him for a moment, you watched as he scooped up more bites with his fork before settling down to savor the meal.

“You weren’t lying, I did cook good.” You laughed.

He raised his head and let out a quick ‘mhm’ before eating again.

“Dear, if you’re going to live here… even if it’s temporary… you’re going to have to pitch in.”

”Oh- oh my god I’m so sorry I would’ve-“

His raised finger brought your sentence to a halt.

“By cooking. Cook for me and you can stay as long as you’d like.” He was joking, but part of him wasn’t.

"Lieutenant, what's yer take? Shall we give a shot at conversin' with the lass? I'm up for havin' a blether with her."

Johnny had harbored feelings for his Lieutenant's lady, hidden until last night. Her warm smile and the small talks she initiated, often mentioning what Simon said about him, stirred something within him.

Every aspect of her aroused him. While he had no desire for a relationship with her, the thought of mind-blowing sex lingered in his mind.

"Wot you gonna say to 'er?"

”Gonnae seduce her with ma irresistible charms.” He joked.

Simon wasn’t laughing. It could work, perhaps you three could work out something. A threesome was definitely enticing.

"Not the worst idea you've 'ad."

Johnny thought about it, your lips wrapped around his hardened cock, moaning around it as Simon relentlessly pounded into your cervix. Your tits jiggling with every thrust of his hips.

“Would be fuckin’ hot, wouldinnit?”

“Not wrong.” He grunted.

They both strolled in sync back to your (now Simon’s) shared room, prepared to release some tension after being thoroughly worked over during sparring.

"For noo, let's focus on jist us, aye Lieutenant?"

Simon grunted in response, turning his key and unlocking the door.

“Where dae yae wannae have me?”

“On yer knees.”

You and John had decided to watch whatever you could on the tele, with DVDs of course since the channels had to use satellites and such.

After a couple of hours indoors, you decided it was time to retrieve your belongings from your (Simon’s) room. John offered to join you for support, but you insisted on handling it alone, feeling guilty for staying with him and emphasizing your independence as an adult.

You navigated through the base, reaching your room, and opted for a brief pause before entering. A gust of wind brought some stray dirt to your face, causing you to cough and wheeze as you approached the door.

You knocked, aiming for a swift retrieval of your belongings. Getting no response, you proceeded to enter, unlocking the door with your key as it was locked.

Lo and behold, Johnny was bent over what was once your table, with Simon pistoning into him from behind. He was moaning like a dog in heat, begging your former lover for his release. Desperate pleas paraded from his lips until he locked eyes with you.

“Lieute- nghhh- Fuck! Lieutenant!” Johnny choked out, trying to signal for Simon to stop.

“Thas’ it, keep crying for me pet. Jus’ like that.” He groaned, still not realizing your presence.

Johnny arched his back to look up at him, tapping at his broad shoulders then shoving him away, unable to make a sentence when Simon’s cock was hitting the right spot with every thrust. When he finally did slow his pace, glaring at him, his line of sight synced with his as he gazed you. His hips never paused, now slowly rocking into the scot’s ass. His hand reached to grab his jaw, forcing him to look at you as his orgasm approached.

“Y’wanted to seduce her, here she is. Look at her, pet. Pretty thing, isn’t she?” Simon grunted.

“S-so pretty”

“I bet she thinks yer pretty too, Sergeant. Do ya think he’s pretty, luv?”

You’re too stunned by the sight in front of you to even speak. You just mindlessly agree, not knowing how to respond.

“Tell him, tell him how good he is f’me.”

You want so badly to be mad, but with the lustful way Johnny looks at you with his beautiful blue eyes, you can’t help it.

“Such a good boy, Johnny.”

He whimpers at your words, cock twitching as Simon speeds up the pace. He fists it, but not for long since Simon yanked his hand back.

“Good boys ask, right pet? Ask her. I bet her mouth would feel much better.”

Johnny could barely muster the question, panting out your name breathlessly. You get on your knees and climb under the table, leaving him and Simon shocked. Your eyes lock with the latter and he fucking groans.

“This isn’t for you.” You spit out, taking Soap’s lengthy cock into your palm.

Hel whines, twitching in your hand, aching for his release. You softly stroke him, starting off at a slower pace.

“Faster, Bonnie. Please.”

And how could you not give him what he asked so nicely for?

You tightened your grip on him, bringing your hand lower and tapping the tip against your tongue before taking it in your mouth. You hear a quiet ‘ah, fuck’ fall from his lips.

Simon was now relentlessly pounding into his ass again, causing Johnny to push forward. His hips were now directly against the table, his cock plundering its way into your mouth as you traced his balls with your finger.

“So… good… gonnae.. cum!”

“Ask first.” Simon grunts.

“Can I cum, Lieutenant?”

”Not the right person, ask ‘er.”

“Please, hen.” He gasps, his balls tightening while he spoke.

You let out a ‘Mhm’, choking on his length when taking all of him in your mouth. The vibrations were too much, causing him to cum on the spot. You give him a few more strokes and take him out of your mouth.

“So good for ‘er, Johnny.”

Crawling out from under the table, you decide to do something you’ve never done with Simon. You stick your tongue out, showcasing the scot’s semen and crashing your lips onto his. He moaned as you ran your tongue across the roof of his mouth, tasting himself before following your movements. After tonging each other for what seemed like forever, you pull off of him to catch your breath, glaring at Simon before walking off to the bedroom.

You're not sure why you did it, but it felt good. Soap isn't the problem; it was ghost.

In the intricate web of emotions, you found yourself tangled, unsure of your feelings for Price, Simon, or Johnny. Each connection carried its own dynamic, leaving you in a state of indecisiveness. Price offered stability, Simon, well, your not even sure anymore, and Johnny, a sense of adventure.

Navigating through the emotional maze your brain created, you grappled with the pain of your heart, torn between different affections, as you tried to decipher your emotions for each of them while you packed your bags.

Taglist:@ttsbaby01@waves-against-a-cliff@konigslittleliebling@imjustheretofightforlove@beebeechaos@mikimumiki@splaterparty0-00@negativity4you@heyitsmarimari@fruitymoonbeams-blog@sleepdeprivedkat@nobilitando@yawning-grave81@vlota97@grimmysloane@littlecellist

#john soap mactavish #soap x reader #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #soapghost #john price #ghost angst #ghost x reader #john price x reader

[starstruck-flames]

Distractions… - Nanami Kento

I cannot stop staring. I cannot stop thinking about how I want to achieve this fantasy with you. But is it really worth the possibility of pain down the road?

A/N: Can you tell I like Nanami?

Content includes: Nanami pining for reader, Nanami feels a strange longing for a life he never really thought about, it’s fluffy I don’t apologise I like fLUFF

Song for your mood?

Nanami had returned to the world of fighting Jujutsu tech recently. Getting to know the students who know came to the school and…

Meeting you all over again.

You had gone to Kyoto Prefecture back then, so seeing you hadn’t been too common. And you were slightly older so the meetings had been sparse but well received.

You’d been a much better upperclassman in comparison to the likes of Gojo after all. Smart, mature, friendly. It wasn’t hard for people from his own school to notice the crush he had for you, the slightly sadder look to his expression when you’d return with your school.

When he left, he’d wondered how you would have felt about it.

When he returned, he knew how you felt about it.

You knew Nanami, you knew being overly touchy wasn’t his sort of thing. So when you saw him again after all this time, you greeted him with that same smile.

“Nanami!” You had greeted him that day. “I’d heard rumours but I was worried I’d never see you again. Have you been readjusting to being back?”

It was basic niceties but fuck it made his chest tighten. He glanced away, mumbled his own greeting and quickly departed. Not that you ever questioned his stand offish personality. You’d only ever see him be the same, you could tell he did care in his own strange way.

Gojo watched the whole thing, with clenched teeth. He just wishes he could shove the man, make him actively say something.

Weeks pass, and you see each other far more frequently. The taller man being… completely lost on how to deal with it. He’d grown infatuated in occasional school visits but now… now that you were both grown up, and had all these assignments. It’s a little suffocating, but he feels almost addicted to the way his heart squeezes and beats harder every time you get time to talk, every time he gets to see you fight.

And he refuses to talk about it.

Much to Gojo’s dismay.

He can’t figure out why he’d want to actually act on his feelings. To maybe establish that connection with you. He’d rejoined to protect the people who can’t protect themselves, knowing full well an ordinary life would be hard to achieve. Nanami feels that strange longing in his whole being to take you to that life. Knowing that establishing a connection could just put both of you more in a dangerous spotlight.

He can’t help but imaging it, that vacation he’s always wanted. You by his side, a family maybe. As long as you’re by his side, it would probably feel like heaven on earth. Closing his eyes makes him imagine the idea of you up against his chest as you slept in.

Domestic daydreams that he knows wouldn’t be achieved anytime soon. Maybe not in this lifetime.

Maybe he should take that risk? Just for a taste of the life he’d wanted?

You could both protect each other.

Nanami knows. He knows if he wants a chance in hell of feeling normal again he has to talk to you.

But seeing you, bathed in sunset as you both enjoy the quiet before a mission?

He wants to feel that tightness at least one more time.

One more time before he reaches out to pull your hair out of your face.

“Hm?”

“It was getting in your eyes.”

#Spotify #jjk x reader #nanami kento #nanami motherfucking kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #x reader #I’m in love with him your honour #JJK fluff #fluff

[beanghostprincess]

Zoro trying to wingman sanuso into dating because their longing for each other is disruptive to his daily routine, only he is completely shit at it because his idea of romance is the unhinged bullshit he has with Luffy. Nami figures out what Zoro is trying to do after 2 months and manages to get Sanji and Usopp together under a week and then Zoro continues suffering because them dating is just as bad as Sanji sighing wistfully after Usopp every hour of the day and Usopp getting distracted by Sanji's legs during bathtime and slipping and almost cracking his head open. Now they just run around calling each other petnames and Sanji handfeeding Usopp food and sitting in his lap and it's making him cringe

This is perfect. Absolutely amazing. Anon, I'd love to kiss your brain.

Zoro is so done with them. He's always been really close to Usopp, so now that he has a crush on Sanji, he's the one dealing with it. It's fucking awful. Because Usopp keeps saying (lying) that he doesn't like Sanji. Then, Zoro goes to Sanji and asks if he likes Usopp and he lies too, because why the hell would he confess his feelings to fucking mosshead of all people? And Zoro has to deal with Usopp being head over heels for the cook every damn day (like, literally, looking for excuses to talk to Sanji. Spending the time in the kitchen with him. Always talking about him when Zoro is around. Flirting with him in the most obvious of ways. Fucking up in battle because he's focused on Sanji. Etc). But the pining isn't the only issue, because there's more. Sanji keeps flirting with women and Usopp is always devastated when that happens or unreasonably angry at everything, frustrated. And Zoro is the one who has to deal with it because for some fucking reason the sniper decided one day that they were best friends and Zoro accepted because he's stupid (and he's regretting all the decisions he made two years ago). Sanji is also fucking annoying because he keeps swooning over Usopp like a dog in heat and he's oh, so in love that it physically hurts to watch. Like, quite literally hurts because he keeps holding himself back from treating Usopp the way he treats his crushes and the frustration always goes to Zoro and they always end up fighting again and again and again. And don't get him wrong, Zoro likes to fight with Sanji. That's their whole thing. But he needs his own personal time too.

So Zoro's like "Fuck it. If these two are not gonna get together on their own, I'll do it myself". But, as you said, his whole concept of romance is really fucked up because his love for Luffy is completely different and the way he shows affection is way more complicated than what Sanuso does. Zoro has the brilliant idea to put both of them in danger so the other will save him, for some reason. It never ends up well and he's the one saving them in the end or he ends up fighting Sanji once again. It's getting even more annoying now. So you can erase "saving each other" from the list, because Zoro does not know how to make plans and it always ends up horribly wrong or with them saving themselves. Then he tries "possessiveness", but ends up erasing that too because unlike him (who's always all over Luffy) both Sanji and Usopp end up having depressive episodes every damn time Zoro says the other likes somebody else or puts that idea in their heads. Fucking idiots with low self-esteem. And so Zoro's like "maybe I can just go and put them in a dark room together" but Sanji apparently is fucking frightened of the dark and Usopp doesn't know how to get out so it's pretty much both of them having panic attacks until Zoro helps them out. And, idk, maybe he even tries to put messages in Usopp's food so he thinks Sanji's the one who wrote them! But he always ends up mistaking the dishes and he doesn't even know how to write stuff with food so it either ends up looking horrible or in the hands of somebody who isn't Usopp. Etc, etc, etc. He's so fucking done-

Nami notices because, unlike him, she isn't stupid. And she gets them together extremely quickly. And it's as easy as:

Nami: Hi, Sanji-san, are you busy tonight? Sanji: Of course not, my dearest! For you, I'm always free! Nami: Awesome! And you, Usopp? Usopp: Huh? Yeah. Well. I think so? Why? Nami: Great! Well, I am busy. And I had this reservation at this really expensive restaurant on this island? It would be such a waste of food, right Sanji-san? Sanji: Of course, my angel! I would never! Nami: Why don't you two go together? Usopp: Wait- What? Nami- Nami, hey- We talked about this don't- Sanji: You don't wanna go with me? :( <- Saddest wet cat face ever Usopp: Of course I do! Who said I didn't?! Nami: Perfect! It's a date, then! Usopp: A WHAT? Sanji: Nami-

And she just- She just fucking leaves without a word.

It turns out surprisingly well... For Sanji and Usopp, of course. Things just get worse for Zoro.

Because it's not only the fact that Nami won't stop reminding him that she was the one who got them together and he wasn't even able to do it. But on top of it all, Sanji and Usopp become the clingiest, sappiest, most annoying couple in the whole world.

He now has to deal with Sanji feeding Usopp and sitting really close at lunchtime. Usopp being extra dramatic and loud when telling stories to impress Sanji and dancing around with him. Sanji cooking all of Usopp's favorite meals at least once a week. Them always making out during bathtime and being extremely touchy. Usopp leaving notes around for Sanji that Zoro always finds first. Sanji fucking yelling all the time to call for Usopp. Them kissing mid-battle or being extremely distracted by each other. Even when they're sitting together as a group, they're sitting on top of each other.

It's disgusting. Not because Zoro hates love or he's cynical or whatever, because he's obsessed with romance. He just hates the fact that they're so loud about it because his perception of love is just so personal and intimate when it comes to Luffy and- And he likes Usopp. He really loves him a lot (platonically). And Zoro doesn't want him to get hurt. The thought is stupid because, despite their rivalry, he trusts Sanji with his life. But it's just weird.

Then I think one day Usopp is having a rough moment. Or perhaps he's the only one who hasn't woken up yet. The point is that he's on one of the bunk beds sleeping and Zoro thinks it's time to check on him. But then he goes into the room, silently enough for neither of them to notice, and stays for a moment on the door staring at the whole situation. Sanji's kneeling on the side of the bed, caressing Usopp's hair and kissing his face and just whispering things Zoro can't hear but knows he isn't meant to hear anyway. And so he walks away and thinks, well, maybe he's been wrong all along and they do have that sort of intimacy. Just in a different way.

And then Luffy comes to him fucking yelling his name and embracing him completely in the middle of the deck (where everybody is) kissing him all over his face and screaming about how excited he is to spend their day together on the next island.

Zoro just has to laugh. Maybe he doesn't have any right to complain about PDA after all.

#i have no fucking idea how the hell this ask ended up being this whole thing #i have to thank anon for the idea bc i loved it as you can see #i am so dramatic i always end up writing whole fics eiddsdukfbsukd #but i just love the concept of sanuso and zolu paralleling each other #one piece #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #usopp #sanuso #monkey d. luffy #zolu #nami

[mrsjellymunson]

The Boy Is Mine [Kittie’s edition]

For @carolmunson’s absolutely wonderful The Boy Is Mine community-boosting writing exercise. Thank you Carol for creating this marvellous event 💛 Everyone go look at the guidelines and JOIN IN, no tag is necessary 😃

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

WC: ~1.6k

Rating: M, MDNI

C/W: Fluffy Fluffster McFluffington, friends to lovers, a few swears, descriptions of erotic drawings and literature, allusions to arousal, drug use (smoking the devil’s lettuce), kinda forced proximity?, Eddie is self-deprecating, Hellfire Club being stellar wingmen.

Prompts included: 3 prop prompts, 4 dialogue prompts.

—————————————————————

“What do you mean, we should all cancel?”

Gareth is looking at Dustin aghast, the other members of the Hellfire Club regarding the curly-haired boy with confusion.

“I mean exactly that. We should all cancel. Make it so it’s just the two of them.”

He continues, addressing the whole group.

“Aren’t you all sick of the awkwardness, the pining, the longing looks? I know I am. They’re never going to configure their own romantic night in, so I say we do it for them.”

Ever the insightful one, Erica continues Dustin’s campaign.

“He’s right, Gare, and you know it. These two doofuses are never gonna do it by themselves. So I say, save all of us the pain, and sacrifice one night of socialising for the greater good.”

“The greater good…”, the group grumbles in unison, most nodding sullenly at the loss of a night round at Eddie’s, but all agreed in their collective aim.

—————————————————————

You haven’t known Eddie as a friend for all that long. You only joined Hellfire a few weeks ago, and have smoked with him and the stoners at the bench in the woods a couple of times, but that’s about it. Unbeknownst to him, you’ve been admiring him from afar for considerably longer, although you’d never tell him that.

Tonight is gonna be the first time you’ve spent time with him. Just him. At his trailer. Alone. Somehow all the other members of Hellfire ended up dropping out or having other plans, but they all insisted that you should definitely still go. You know you have no reason to be nervous, but there’s something that happens every time he looks at you that just makes you feel, well, fluttery.

You take a deep, steadying breath and knock on the screen door of the trailer, and from inside you hear a muffled, “Come in!”

Eddie’s sitting on the floor on a small throw pillow, his back against the couch, scribbling in a small, green notebook. It’s evident from the spoon sticking out of the container in front of him that he’s been eating vanilla frosting straight out of the tub. The weed must be getting to him already.

He looks up as you enter, and hurriedly closes the book as he goes to stand. He glances at his watch and greets you with a cheerful, if a little flustered, “Hey, sweetheart! Are you early? I didn’t think… Oh, I must’ve got distracted and lost a little time there.”

He beams at you as you move into the modest living room, dimples popping and those adorable chocolate brown eyes flashing in your direction.

Yeah, fluttery... You wonder how on earth you’re gonna keep it together for an entire evening.

Eddie beckons you over to the couch, and as you perch on the edge he invites you to spark up a pre-rolled joint as he somewhat self-consciously grabs the almost-empty frosting container and goes to the kitchen to get drinks.

As he moves, you can’t help but take him in. His hair is clean and fluffy, and he leaves a cloud of a not unpleasant masculine body wash in his wake. His shirt, which fits far too nicely, is a deep, unfaded black, and the print on the front seems really vibrant. It seems to be burn and tear-free, the sleeves are intact and attached, and it’s tucked into his jeans, which also appear to be devoid of rips. Could they all be… new? But, why would he be wearing his best clothes just for a simple social?

Taking a long drag from the joint and needing a distraction from all the unbidden fluttering, you grab the notebook. It’s one you’ve never seen before. It's pretty, and has an embossed cover sporting some kind of fantastical creature. It’s very Eddie.

Looking inside, you see drawings of dice, weapons, ubiquitous Eddie stuff. But then you spot some full-page sketches of sexy elves, a long-haired medieval maiden, boobs, even a couple of well-proportioned penises. You’re a little surprised, but the drawings are so good and the level of detail so exquisite that you almost forget the subject matter.

There’s some writing too, short scenarios about fantastical characters fucking on mountain tops, magical sex toys, a wizard with an impossibly long tongue... You know you shouldn’t be looking, but you can’t tear your eyes away, and you feel a subtle heat developing in your belly.

You skip to what must be his most recent scribblings, wondering what he was so engrossed with as you came in, which is where you find content that looks oddly… familiar. There’s an outline of a story about a magical prince ravishing a fair damsel at a location that sounds eerily similar to the spot in the woods that a group of you discovered only the other week. A sketch of a figure wearing a crown, surrounded by intricate renditions of dragons, who has your eyes and lips, and physical proportions that look an awful lot like yours. A picture of a hand, adorned with something that looks very similar to a bracelet that you wear, with one of Eddie’s rings on a finger...

Eddie returns from the kitchen with sodas poured into old plastic cups branded with worn logos that look like they came from a ball game years ago.

“The maid took the week off so we’ve run out of, like, nice cups. Is this okay?"

You didn’t hear his socked feet pad in on the soft carpet, and his voice startles you. You jump, dropping the notebook onto the coffee table with a small thud. It falls open at the picture of the dragon lady.

Eddie freezes, eyes popped wide and jaw dropped open. He gapes a few times like a fish as you quickly scramble backwards onto the sofa, talking quickly and apologising profusely.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie! I shouldn’t have been looking. I- I didn’t see much, honestly.”

He panics and rushes to put the cups down on the small coffee table, spilling a little from one of them. He quickly sits down next to you, and runs one hand nervously through his chestnut bangs while the other reaches shakily towards the notebook, but then pulls back.

He waves that hand in the air as he mumbles, “Umm, you weren’t supposed to see any of that. It’s, uh, ideas for campaigns or whatever. It’s just fantasy, y’know?”

He swallows thickly and his eyebrows pinch, and he’s studying your face to try to judge your reaction. Are you weirded out? Freaked? Upset? Angry?? Has he just ruined everything by forgetting to hide that damn book?

You see the terror in Eddie’s eyes, and you try to reassure him that you’re not offended by what you saw. In fact, quite the opposite. You blurt out,

“The drawings, they're really good. Amazing, actually. And the little stories, too. I sorta did read some, I’m really sorry. But it’s all really captivating. Kinda sensuous, almost visceral...”

You frown ever so slightly at your admission and chew your lip.

He asks, an endearingly hopeful look on his face,

“And… you like that?"

You look into his glinting, mahogany orbs and smile softly.

“Yeah, I like it, Eddie.”

You shift in your seat, and Eddie can’t help but notice how you subtly clench your thighs together.

The edges of Eddie’s lips quirk up into the tiniest smile, as he realises that not only haven’t you completely freaked out, you also, apparently, even liked at least some of what you saw.

But just as quickly, his face drops. Looking at his lap and rubbing one thumb over his rings, he says quietly,

“Yeah, but it’s just fantasy, right? In real life, no Dragon Queen would ever want a freak like me.”

Bending forwards to peek under the curtain of hair that’s dropped in front of his face, you look up into his eyes, and state, softly,

“Aw, don't be like that. That's not even true. Some people would give anything to be your Dragon Queen."

He turns his head to look at you with a questioning expression.

“Yeah?”

Quietly, you reply,

“Yeah. You never know who’s gonna think you’re kind, and smart, and pretty…”

There’s a beat of tense silence. Needing something to do, you teasingly push at his knee with your hand. You both let out nervous little chuckles; it helps to dissipate some of the tension in the room.

As Eddie’s leg springs back from your touch, you notice that sometime during all of this your thighs have started touching.

Shit.

Fuck it.

Whether it’s the weed, or the contents of the notebook, or the way your skin feels like it’s on fire where it’s in contact with Eddie, or simply the way Eddie’s responding to your flattery and compliments, you feel emboldened, and decide to admit just a little of your feelings for him.

“You know, I find you pretty, Eddie.”

He looks genuinely surprised.

“You- You do?”

“Yeah. Really pretty. Gorgeous, actually, if I’m being truthful. And funny, and clever, and astonishingly creative, and-”

He cuts you off.

"If you don't stop, we're gonna have a problem."

“Oh yeah? And what kind of a problem would that be?”

His cheeks turn the most beautiful shade of pink as he admits, “The kind of problem that I’m gonna need to cover with a damn cushion, that’s what!”

You cackle, which makes Eddie laugh, a beautiful, booming sound emanating from deep in his chest.

You both start to giggle, all remaining discomfort dissipated. You theatrically bend and retrieve the pillow Eddie was sitting on earlier, handing it to him with a flourish as you dip your chin and peer up at him through your lashes.

“Might it also be the kind of problem that could one day be resolved by taking a certain Dragon Queen to a certain clearing deep in the woods, and doing certain things to her, perhaps with a certain magic tongue?”

Eddie inhales sharply through his nose, eyes twinkling, and suddenly looks dreadfully serious. His gaze locks with yours as he starts to lean into your space, and his gaze starts to flick between your eyes and lips.

He raises one hand to gently skim his fingertips down one side of your jaw and smiles a little as he says, in a low and husky voice that you can barely hear,

“Oh, my Queen, I think that would absolutely be the most perfect solution...”

—————————————————————

Thanks so much for reading!

A/N: If you haven’t seen Hot Fuzz, go do it. A reference near the beginning will make a whole lot more sense 😉 And if anyone spots the Shining reference somewhere in here, you win an invisible prize that you’ll never see, but it’s great, I promise.

Go go go check out the masterlist of other fabulous contributions for this challenge. Support your community!

Comments and reblogs give writers life, please share the love 💕💕💕

Tags: @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician, and @sunshinepeachx bc we’ve bonded over Eddie fluff 😆

#eddie munson fluff #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfic #writing exercise #eddie munson #Eddie munson x you #Eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #nervous!eddie munson #prompt challenge #prop challenge #self deprecating!eddie munson

[landwriter]

Picnic | Dream/Hob | 1.7K | G light and happy fluff, Hob loves springtime, Matthew hates giving dating advice, and the only pining is Dream pining for an A+ in dating, a thing that is both normal to want and possible to achieve

for Domaystic Drabbles, Day 4: Packed Lunch ty to @softest-punk for twigging me to the sweet @domaystic prompts. It got a little out of hand!

----

Hob had seen several thousand fine spring days. He’d seen keen snowdrops surfacing in February, a hundred congregations of crocuses bursting forth to greet the turning of the seasons, and entire delegations of wild daffodils lancing through leaf-fall and trumpeting their blossoms with an attitude that suggested they knew themselves to be the first and only creatures to master the colour yellow. He’d watched six centuries of human habitation dusted with the same fine pollen as alder and birch unfurled their catkins like festival garlands, and he’d— he’d gotten distracted again.

He blinked at the paper in front of him. He’d forgotten it was there. Or that he was meant to be grading it.

That, too: six centuries of the wild joy of spring distracting him from whatever passed for worthy toil at the time. Six centuries of the whiff of warm breeze setting off some yet-unexplained chemical reaction in his brain that made him want to dash outside and not come back in for weeks. Six centuries of him becoming temporarily mad and cheerfully insufferable to all those around him with the joy of it. He’d never get used to it, and Christ help him if he let anyone around him get used to it either.

“What a gorgeous day,” he remarked, to the untouched stack of student work.

It said nothing back, but he beamed down at it anyway, and then, sighing in the manner of a man happy to be defeated, turned his office chair to face the cracked-open window and watch the house martins build their newest nest.

---

“Matthew.”

“Yeah, boss?”

“I require your counsel. For a human matter.” Dream’s brow was furrowed, his manner grave. Hob, then.

Matthew inclined his head and hopped sideways in what he’d decided was the corvid equivalent of girding his loins.

“Hob keeps commenting on the weather on our outings.” He sounded anguished.

“The weather?” he repeated dumbly. Thank fuck. Two days ago it had been the number of orgasms human males required. Daily. Which, good for the two of them, but c’mon. Matthew had really not needed that knowledge about the kind of refractory period and appetite you acquire after half a millenia of boning. Hob, unfortunately, was Dream’s first human boyfriend, and the boss was setting about his new function with all the usual terrifying intensity and insane demands of perfection. In service of this, Matthew (unilaterally and undemocratically, he might add) had been named Arbiter Of All Things Men, which seemed kind of like a reach considering he was a bird, and one who’d been only, like, a little bisexual in his human life. The Corinthian was always skulking around. He wasn’t human either, but at least he’d fucked dudes. He’d have tips. Or Loosh! Loosh knew everything. She could give Dream books and send him off. Instead of Matthew trying to remember how the fuck dating worked.

“-time we’ve met this week.”

“Right,” said Matthew vaguely.

“What does he mean by it? He knows I cannot change the weather in the Waking. He asks nothing of me, and yet it is incessant.”

“Complaining about it, huh? Humans love to complain, boss.”

“No,” said Dream, looking wretched. “Worse. Earnest, ceaseless praise.”

“Oh. Sure. Of course.” What?

Dream was pacing the throne room like he was auditioning for community theater. “At the National Gallery, he daydreamed of the city park outside while feigning to contemplate a Pesellino. I took him to a production of Macbeth at the Globe, and afterwards, he said that even after centuries, it was never less than marvelous to watch. He was referring to the swifts feeding above us in the third act. Naturally.”

Matthew made a sympathetic noise. If he didn’t know when to keep his mouth - er, beak - shut, he’d say that Dream sounded like an insecure lover. Jealous, as best he could tell, of the change of seasons for stealing away some of Hob’s uncannily boundless affections.

“Well?” Dream stared at him in askance.

“Uh.” He floundered. Spring shit, spring shit. “You could take him on a picnic.” Yeah. Chicks loved picnics.

---

Dream had appeared in his office with a wicker basket that looked stolen from a Beatrix Potter story. A delicate gingham square peeked from the lid. It looked big enough to set up a naughty rabbit for life. He set it on Hob’s desk and then primly folded his hands behind his back.

“Hullo, you.” Hob stood and kissed him on the cheek. “What’s the occasion?” He suspected that there was none. Dream had been taking dating him very seriously. It was delightful.

“Matthew has suggested you require a picnic,” said Dream. Except he said it the way someone else might say The doctor has suggested it’s terminal.

Dream had been taking dating him very seriously. It was also, sometimes, awful.

“Oh, darling. That’s so sweet. But I don’t require anything special, you know. Just you, when you’ve got time to drop in. We could do something else.”

“We shall not. I have packed us lunch.”

“Alright, you stubborn creature. Maybe I do require a picnic.” He offered his arm to Dream. “Come on, I know a place.”

---

Lunch was too piddling a word for the spread Dream had packed. Lunch was a crust of bread and ale, or pottage. Lunch was a Sainsbury’s Egg & Cress Sandwich wolfed down with the last of the morning’s flask of Yorkshire Tea. This was a feast. A temple offering. For Hob. His chest twinged a little with affection. God, he was in love.

“This pleases you,” said Dream, who was looking unfairly elegant for someone sat on a gingham blanket with a bit of clotted cream on the side of his mouth.

Hob kissed it away. “Oh, yes.”

“More than our other...dates.”

“Oh,” said Hob, who was sometimes slow on the uptake, but after several centuries, didn’t miss much at all. “I’ve loved all of them. But this-” he gestured sweepingly around at Primrose Hill, the green ash shading them, the pleasant urban pastoral of joggers and families and dogs and other love-struck couples, all breathing in the same warm afternoon air, “-is exactly where I want to be, today. Outside, among all the life. In the thick of spring. It’s perfect.”

Dream followed Hob’s gaze, and studied the tableau. “There is nothing exceptional about this weather or setting.” He sounded as nonplussed as creature with nearly infinite age and knowledge could sound.

Hob laced his fingers through Dream’s, and tried to see what he saw. No great stories, really. Pedestrian daydreams of food and sun and sex, probably, of pay raises and summer vacations to Mallorca and Ibiza. Humanity being predictable, and life doing the same thing it did every year, to Dream’s uncountable thousands.

“No, I suppose not, but that’s why I love it, too. It’s familiar. Constant. Centuries, and it catches me out each time. It’s always arrived, no matter how bad things were for me. Always been there to celebrate with me when they’re wonderful. Like now.”

Dream looked sidelong at Hob. “Like now,” he echoed. Unsure, and stubbornly unwilling to make a question of it. The ache in Hob’s chest redoubled itself.

“Like now,” he promised. “It reminds me of you, too, you know. We always met in June, Dream. In 1789, watching the first trees budding nearly drove me mad with anticipation. Ninety-nine years and nine months. And you were always heralded by the same signs.” He traced circles on Dream’s pale palm, imagining it sun-kissed. “In 1989, when spring turned all the way into summer and you were still gone, I think my heart broke a little. I’d hoped, until then. That you were just late. With the swifts,” he said, quiet.

“Hob.” Dream had moved across the picnic blanket in his preternaturally fast way, and was now more or less in his lap, gripping Hob’s shoulders.

“Sorry,” he said, grimacing. “I’m being horrifically soppy. Must’ve been the scones. It’s alright. You’re here now. All that matters.”

“Robert Gadling,” said Dream. Hob blinked at that. He’d only ever gotten the full name treatment when Dream was still his Stranger, and only then when he’d disappointed him. “If you dare apologize for such a fine expression of your sentiment, I will be wroth with you.”

“Sorry,” he said again, smiling this time.

“I am honoured you associate me with the season you most adore. I would have it that you never pass another Spring waiting for me. If you wished such a thing.”

It sounded a little like a marriage proposal, which was something his heart really could not cope with the full size of at the minute. Not with so much love already around. Not if Dream didn’t intend to say it like that. He went for levity instead.

“Even though it’s driven me to distraction every time you’ve taken me out this week? Even if all I want to do for weeks is lie around outdoors and hold hands?”

Nearby, a baby started wailing. Dream, to his credit, didn’t even glance away. “Yes,” he said, perfectly solemn, perfectly certain. “Even then.”

“Well, that’s alright then,” said Hob, fighting an urge to start crying a little as well. “I would, as a matter of fact. Wish such a thing.”

They looked at each other, besotted, while the wailing continued.

“Only,” murmured Dream, “must it be in Anthropocene?”

“What?”

“Lie down, lover.” Hob did, a delighted suspicion creeping over him as Dream reached into his jacket pocket. Dream stretched over him, and spoke it low into his ear: “And I will take you to a Spring no man has seen.”

---

Matthew was eating scone crumbs and congratulating himself on his good sense to suggest a picnic. Birds loved picnics too. He hadn’t realized how much until this moment. Jesus. Picnics were a great idea. He was going to tell Dream that human men required them weekly during courtship.

“Thanks for bringing home leftovers, boss,” he said, spraying crumbs all over Dream’s shoulder.

Dream was too preoccupied to mind, or even notice. He waved an imperious hand. “It’s nothing. We absconded from the Waking shortly after we arrived. I have finally given Hob a worthy date. I showed him the virtues of picnicking in a Dreaming Spring.” Oh my god. Dream actually had been jealous of the weather. Because he hadn’t made it for Hob.

“What, no ants?” he offered.

“Hardly so prosaic,” said Dream. He glowed with satisfaction. “The very first.”

#dreamling #domaystic2023 #extremely soft and silly #picnics and ants and trying to make your new boyfriend happy #domestic fluff: early dating edition #the sandman #my writing #fic post #dream of the endless #hob gadling #ants first appeared in the mid-cretaceous 90 million years ago #dream taking hob to a shakespeare play when he could take him to lunch with DINOSAURS (and the first ants ofc) #wouldn’t be a picnic without the threat of ants

[thebigbiwolf]

Starvin', Darlin' - Chapter 1

Pairing: Not quite friends to lovers Astarion x OC/F!Tav

Chapter Summary: Astarion knows his power is waning, and seducing their leader Evelyn has gone poorly at best. If he is to keep himself in the tiefling's good graces, he's left with no other options. He must drink from a thinking creature.

Everything goes according to plan... until it doesn't.

Fic Tags: Minor spoilers for Act 1, The Bite Scene, Emotional slow burn, Angst, Teasing, Frottage (god I'm sorry), Pining, This is my first ever fic so idk how to tag things appropriately but you get the gist.

Fic Warnings: Eventual Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubcon (I cannot stress this enough), Bloodlust/Loss of control, Mentions of blood, lmk if you need anything else tagged.

Word Count: 6.1k

Read on Ao3: Here

A/N: I started this as a way to get this fruity fuck out of my head but I think I just made the situation worse. If you know me, no you don't. If you've followed me for a long time, sorry in advance. I may make this a mini-series depending on time and reception, but we'll see! OC is a rogue who seduces men to gain their favor but we'll get to that in later chapters.

Astarion's trance did not come easily that night; his hunger manifesting as a throbbing headache that refused to subside. It had been hours of tossing and turning in his tent, willing his body to settle, forcing himself to ruminate on the past few weeks.

Before he joined this disgustingly merry little group of adventurers, hunting rabbits and the occasional boar had been enough to sustain him. In fact, dining on larger animals had been a significant upgrade from the meager flies and rats he’d become so accustomed to under his master’s rule, but that was before all of this incessant hard labor. 

He could feel his strength waning over the last several days. His senses were dulling, his reflexes numbed. Just this morning, he had failed to gain the upper hand with a particularly nasty kobold. He paid for it dearly when the damned thing all but pummeled him into the ground. 

Luckily, Lae’zel had been there, hammer at the ready to divorce its jaw from its head. Beautifully done, by the way, but his blunder did not go unnoticed. All this sneaking around for barely a nibble during his watch was beginning to take its toll.

Astarion knew he was on thin ice, considering his relationship with their fearless, incomparable leader began with him pulling a knife on her and grappling her to the ground -  in front of the damn wizard, no less. Some friction was to be expected.

But things hadn’t progressed much between the two of them since then. The pair rarely saw eye to eye on anything, and she seemed to have an innate passion for berating him over his unwillingness to stop for every single injured bird or helpless child as they traveled - as if playing the part of a hero was a favorable distraction from the literal time bomb in both their party and their heads. 

“The world is full of potential allies, Astarion,” she had told him, sprinkled with a hint of her usual irritation. “I’m simply expanding our network.” As if a group of starving refugees and mud-slinging tree huggers were going to find them a decent healer any sooner. At this point, he’d heavily considered taking his chances with the goblins. At least they knew how to have fun.

What made matters even more frustrating was that Evelyn was seemingly unaffected by his charms.

Just how exactly was he supposed to secure his place under her protection when the woman barely spared him a second glance? Surely he wasn’t losing his touch. He was a master of seduction. Thousands of others had thrown themselves at his feet for far less effort. He’s had centuries of practice. The mere notion would be ridiculous.

In fact, he couldn’t remember a single moment in the last two hundred years where his advances had been so callously brushed off. Every attempt to make her laugh with his (admittedly morbid) quips was met with her chastising him for being insensitive and making threats to send him back to camp. She dismissed every flirtation, even if her lovely little blush betrayed her. She seemed determined to make him play her little game. He just hasn’t quite figured out what the rules are, yet.

Astarion couldn’t afford to take any more chances. If sleeping his way into her good graces wasn't an option, he was left with little choice. He wanted to make himself indispensable, so he was going to have to take drastic measures to ensure that his strength and physical prowess would never come into question. At least, not again.

He would have to drink from a thinking creature.

The idea of it was as invigorating as it was terrifying. He had spent the last two centuries enduring unimaginable cruelty, starved in ways mortals couldn’t begin to imagine--for years--without any reprieve. 

No, starving doesn’t even scratch the surface. No words could ever describe the tortuous, gnawing, ravenous hunger that consumed his every waking moment under the heavy weight of Cazador’s boot.

Though, Cazador wasn’t here now, was he? 

Curious.

Astarion had spent some time ruminating on who to approach before settling on Evelyn, though his options were limited at best. The githyanki was entirely out of the question; gods forbid he get caught, she would make quick work of him without allowing him so much as a single word of explanation. Shadowheart was…tempting, but that mark on her hand frequently caused her pain, and who knows if that magic would have any affect on him or worse, her taste? And Gale, well, he would rather subsist on a diet of garlic sprinkled with holy water before he put his lips anywhere near that man.

So, Evelyn it was. The tiefling wasn't terrible to look at. She was a younger woman full of vitality, so surely she wouldn’t miss a bit of her blood. He would just have to mind the horns. 

He would be in and out. A quick nibble, then he'd be right as rain. One bite, he tells himself, barely enough to leave a mark. Then, he’ll pass it off and say that they had been attacked by bats during his watch and, not wanting to wake everyone, he quietly dispatched them and saved the day. Unfortunately, not before one of those wretched little beasts managed to puncture their illustrious hero. It was the perfect plan. Infallible. They'll eat it right up.

He continues passing through camp undetected, catlike in his silence, but when he reaches the canvas entrance of her tent ready to pounce, he freezes at the sight of her.

She looked…different while she slept. Softer, gentler, almost; surrounded by a nest of fur blankets, snoozing away instead of attacking his ego. Her hair was puddled beneath her head and horns like dark, red wine; rich and unrestrained by her usual loose bun. 

Another realization hits him: this is the first time Astarion has ever seen her in her sleep clothes, a simple basic black wrapping across her breasts. Practical. Of course.

Her skin is pale enough to rival his own, even with the warmth of the firelight. She’s lying on her side, her uncovered shoulder lightly dusted in freckles, much like her cheeks. Her lips are slightly parted, and in the silence of the night air, he can hear her light, even breaths.

Cute, he thinks to himself. He could almost forgive her for being so maddeningly aloof with a face like that. Almost. 

Astarion leans over to brush her hair away from her neck; the strands softer than he had anticipated. The thrum of her pulse underneath is magnetic. It pulls at his very being, beckoning him closer.

Settling on his knees beside her, his arms form a cage around her body.

He takes in the image of her form one last time and allows himself a moment to savor it. She is toned and lithe, much like himself, but smaller. Perfect. Delectable. 

He bends closer, feeling her gentle puffs of breath on his shoulder; the warmth of her body. His ears ring with anticipation; manicured nails clench the sheets by her head.

She’s going to be so-

Something brushes his leg, hidden beneath the furs.

Her tail. He forgot about her bloody tail.

Evelyn stirs, and fully awakens right as his teeth are at her throat, eyes meeting his. 

Shit.

“Shit.”

With incredible speed, she reflexively reaches for the dagger closest to her pillow, lunging at him. He just barely seizes her arm in time to save himself from being skewered.

“What in the hells are you-” he clasps his palm over her mouth to silence her.

The girl’s eyes are wild with panic, their golden hues burning a hole in his skull. He notices them flit down to where his body hovers over hers before she begins to struggle against him. “No, no, shh,” he whispers. “It’s not what it looks like, I swear.” 

Her expression shifts from panicked to confused. She ceases her squirming. Good. Well, not good, but better. He can work with this.

“When I take my hand away, you have to promise not to scream and wake the whole camp,” he continues, hushed, “unless you’d like for them to find us tangled up in your bedroll. You wouldn’t want to give them the wrong impression now, would you, darling?”

Her eyes widen. Her face flushes deep red, warming his palm against her skin.

There, he thinks, that should-

Her body turns, and suddenly he feels the hard edge of Evelyn’s knee make contact with the corner of his ribs. A direct hit. Pain shoots up his chest as he rolls off of her and onto his side, clutching himself and coughing, heaving air back into his lungs.

She hurriedly covers herself with her sheets, glaring at him as he struggles to collect his breath. He can see her fuming through the tears forming in the corner of his vision. If looks could kill, he’s sure she would have him skinned alive. Maybe use what's left of him to scare away the crows. 

She’s still holding the knife out toward him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? What do you think you’re doing in here?” 

A fair question, one he was not prepared to answer. Perfect. He’s just going to have to wing this. Possibly with two broken ribs. He can’t believe he expected this to go any smoother.

“I-I wasn’t going to hurt you.” He raises a hand and falls back on his thighs with a grunt, grimacing in pain. His other clutches his side, a bit of sweat forming at his brow. “I just…” 

Okay, this is it. He’s got this.

“I just needed, well,” 

Aaaaand,

“Blood.”

There. Excellent form, Astarion. Good show.

“I - You needed what?”

She blinks at him, whether in disbelief or shock, he cannot say.

It takes a moment before his words start to sink in. She takes that time to scan over his body, purposefully. 

He couldn’t quite tell if she was looking for something or if she was deciding whether or not to believe him, but then again, what other explanation could he give? 

He works over his options in his head, considering just how difficult it would be to pass this all off as a terrible joke, but just as he’s about to open his mouth to start on damage control, he hears Evelyn heave a deep sigh. She lowers her weapon, then tosses it to the side, massaging her eyes in frustration. 

Oh. Well, alright.

After some time, he watches her expression soften into understanding as a few notable things dawn on her. He’s never really eaten any meals with them, has he? Then there was the drained boar, which he so carelessly left out by the road.  The damned beast hadn’t even taken the edge off that night, and he was so desperate to quell the nagging ache in his stomach that it lay there forgotten until she found it the next morning. He admitted to her himself that it had been drained by a vampire, after all…

A bit of silence follows.

Astarion doesn’t say a word, doesn’t dare move a muscle. He just allows her the time to process whatever she’s feeling. What’s important is that he’s still alive, she hasn't run him out of camp, and she hasn’t screamed for help. 

He may be able to salvage this, yet.

She scratches the back of her head, carding her fingers through her hair to ease her irritation before finally meeting his gaze.

“Astarion.” The sound of his name leaving her lips pulls him from his thoughts. He can see the disappointment on her soft features just as plainly as he can feel it humming through their psionic link. 

He didn’t think himself capable of guilt, but there was an emotion akin to it brewing within his chest. Ugh. He breaks eye contact, searching for anything to pull his attention away from his discomfort. The miscellaneous bags of clothing and trinkets she had scattered about her tent were just oh so fascinating. And was that a new hairbrush? Hm. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

He’s taken aback by her question. He expected a more offensive reaction. A few insults, maybe ones pertaining to his sharp teeth or bloodlust, but an olive branch?

After all the lies, the invasion of privacy, and the failed attempt at assault?

She really is just full of surprises.

“Well, we aren’t exactly close, you and I. Though, you must admit, I’ve made several attempts to…” He waves a hand between them for emphasis, “mend the gap, so to speak.”

“Well, have you ever considered maybe not being such an asshole?”

Ouch.

But in fairness, no.

“I…” He thinks carefully about what to say next. The buzzing behind his eye socket acts as a threat, reminding him of the very fragile barrier between their minds. Should she choose to dig her claws in and pry the information out of him, she may find more than he's comfortable sharing, so Astarion makes a decision that surprises even himself. 

He chooses to be genuine.

“At best, I was sure you’d say no. More likely, you’d ram a stake through my ribs.” He gestures towards the dagger at her side. “But believe me, I’m not some monster. I’ve never killed another person.”

Evelyn raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Well, not for food,” he quickly corrects. “I’ve been subsisting on animals. Boars—like the one you found the other day—deer, kobolds, whatever I can get my hands on.”

“And what exactly was the plan here? You were just going to kill me and expect the others not to notice?” 

He recoils at the accusation but fights to keep his expression neutral. “I had no intention of killing you. I would never do such a thing.” He leans in closer to her and lowers his voice, as if letting her in on a secret. “We need each other.” 

Evelyn shifts to lean her weight on her arm as she listens, dark hair falling to the side of her shoulder. With the new level of exposure, he can hear her pulse settling into a more comfortable rhythm. 

He swallows. Hard. His hunger is rearing its ugly head again, just at the sound of her.

Oh well, might as well lay all the cards out on the table while we’re at it.

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself, and continues, “As it stands right now, I’m too slow. Too weak. If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better.” There is a question hidden in his words, a favor to be asked.

She seems pensive as she considers him, mulling over everything he’s said in her mind. She lifts a thumb to her mouth and starts nibbling on her nail, no longer looking at him. Nervous too, no doubt. How could she not be with what he’s asking of her, as if he had any right to ask in the first place? 

“I understand you detest me, but-”

Evelyn appears to snap to some conclusion, sitting up straighter and placing her arms to her sides before she responds.

“No, I should detest you, Astarion, but I don’t. You just don’t impress me.”

Wow.

It feels as though he’s been slapped. He barks out a laugh that’s a bit too loud for the intimate setting, trying to mitigate the damage to his ego. “Excuse me?”

She has the nerve to shrug at him. “I’ve seen every trick you’ve used to fill your little black book, probably a thousand items over. I’ve used them all myself. So, frankly, I'm uninspired.”

For the first time in his undead life, he’s totally speechless. His face contorts in indignation, disbelief. This devil.

There is something dangerous in her expression as she leans further forward, neck tilted, exposing herself to him. Her eyes are hooded, with long lashes casting shadows over her cheeks. Her shoulders relax as she lifts her chin to stare down her nose at him, sneering. 

He works his jaw, clenching the muscles unconsciously.

“Astarion, men are idiots. I’ve spent my entire adult life toying with them and robbing them blind. I’ve heard and seen it all. You really believed a few empty praises and mediocre jokes would have me jumping into bed with you? 

Wha- Mediocre?

He opens his mouth with every intention of retaliating, but Evelyn’s palm unexpectedly rests itself on his calf, and the action stuns him into silence. She begins leisurely dragging her nails up towards his thigh. 

His body responds involuntarily; eagerly, frustratingly, the delicate little motion leaving his skin prickling with excitement. 

She regards his chest, admiring the hard planes of muscle. Then, her attention slowly inches down the toned curve of his abs until, finally, they stop at where his cock hardens disobediently beneath his pants.

“Your pretty face doesn’t detract from the fact that you’re still just a man.”

It finally clicks.

She’s baiting him, attempting to get a rise out of him. 

Hm. Impressive.

Normally, at this point in her little game, he assumes most men would take her flirtations at face value. They would likely mistake this performance as an enthusiastic plea to bed her, but Astarion is not like most men. He sees her little game for what it is and recognizes it with ease because he has spent lifetimes playing it himself.

She leans back, satisfied with her little show, and smirks at him.

“So, you admit I have a pretty face?” He teases, his own smile twisting, becoming more mischievous.

She rolls her eyes, but this time she laughs. It’s a soft sound, genuine.

A pinkish hue crawls up her face and paints the tips of her pointed ears, but he can’t discern if that's supposed to be part of the act or, more likely, an unfortunate side-effect of the living experience. He’s finding it hard not to admire her dedication, regardless. 

Well, that’s quite enough of that. Back to business, then.

“It’s settled,” Astarion clasps his hands together, “I’ll just need to impress you with my more eclectic talents if I am to earn your favor. We can start by gracefully slaughtering a few goblins, depending on how the rest of tonight goes. Which is entirely up to you, of course.”

The tiefling squints at him. “Oh no, if you want something from me, darling, you’re going to have to ask politely. With manners. You have those, don’t you? Familiar with them, at least?”

Under normal circumstances, he would find this amusing; nothing like a little role reversal to spice up the evening. But this feels different, heavier, as if her feigning indifference will alleviate the weight of what he's asking of her.

Fine. He supposes relinquishing a little bit of his pride is a fair price to pay.

He takes a deep breath. "Please." 

"Please, what?" She lifts an eyebrow at him expectantly. "Come on, Astarion. Use your words. I know you’re quite fond of them."

He scoffs at her shamelessness, and for a moment, he honestly considers whether this is worth it, but he can't back out now. He'll make it through this, surely. He's been through worse. 

Through gritted teeth, he barely spits out, "Please, may I drink from you?" 

Gods. He's going to be sick.

"Good boy. That wasn't so hard, was it?" 

He’s going to fucking kill her.

There is an uncomfortable silence that follows. So many unspoken questions and a rising suspense that makes Evelyn adjust herself uncomfortably where she sits. Astarion is also musing to himself, still wondering how it's all come to this. Why did he choose her, again? Something about her not killing him right away? Death may have been preferable to this, actually, but he is pulled back to reality when she finally speaks up.

“So," she's picking lint off one of her pillows, avoiding his gaze as she asks, "how exactly should we do this?”

Well, it occurs to him that he doesn’t actually know. He understands the mechanics behind it, of course, but how exactly were they supposed to go about this?

Should he tell her that he’s never actually fed from a person before? Would it make her more or less comfortable to know that he’s just as clueless about this as she is? 

No. He decides against it. Astarion has always done best when he’s playing the role of the confident seductor. This should be no different. He’ll just treat this as if he’s bedding a virgin: guide her, take things slow, and she’ll no doubt be begging him for more soon enough. It’ll be easy. All she has to do is behave.

“Lie back and get comfortable.”

He moves himself closer to her, settling at her side as she does what she’s told. The flap of the tent remains open, letting in the faintest amount of warmth and illuminating Evelyn’s features. With such close proximity, he can see the gold flames within her irises flickering and dancing, a genetic trait attributed to some luckier members of her race, and a feature of her’s that Astarion would have never otherwise noticed. 

He can hear her pulse quickening as he closes the space between them, lifting himself a bit to settle above her, once again caging her between his arms. One of his knees parts her legs, and he can tell in the quietness of her tent that she’s struggling to hide her uneven breaths. Her stare is intense, but he can’t read the meaning behind it.

He decides to give her another out, just in case. Better safe than sorry. 

“We don't have to do this, you know,” his voice is composed, as if his body wasn't currently screaming with anticipation. “I appreciate the consideration, regardless.” 

“I’m fine.” Her response is clipped, dismissive. Her face remains stoic though her fingers fidget with the blankets at her sides. She had moved the furs to give him better access to her body. The darkness inside him preens at the concept.

Best get on with it, then.

He leans down and, unable to help himself, takes in the scent of her: woodsmoke and the faintest hint of vanilla, which he had watched her pick up from a merchant in the grove just the other day. “For Gale’s cooking,” she amended, when he gave her a questioning look.

He gives her one more moment to stop him.

She doesn’t.

A bit of pressure on the skin before it snaps and gives way, his fangs finally sinking into her. He can feel Evelyn’s body tense at the sudden intrusion. She hisses through gritted teeth, her arms involuntarily raising at her sides, reaching for him, but she stops herself before she touches him. He wants to tell her it's fine, expected, even, the need to ground herself, but all of his higher thoughts are plunged into complete chaos when he finally registers her taste. 

Every cell in his body awakens.

The iron flavor of her floods his throat and sets his nerves ablaze. Its heat fills, expands, and splits every crack in his self control into deep, cavernous fissures. 

A groan escapes Astarions throat before he has the chance to quell it. Of course it would be like this - drinking from a thinking creature. Drinking from her. He understands now why Cazador forbade this. Before, he had assumed it was a matter of keeping his spawn weak and compliant, but this was entirely different. This was far more than a method of control. The bastard had been withholding ecstasy greater than he’d ever known.

A feeling swells in him, crashing like waves through his veins. Warmth. It invades him and fills every fiber of his being. He wasn’t naive enough to believe his first time wouldn't have some sort of great, emotional impact, but this? 

This was everything. How was he ever supposed to come back from this?

"Agh - Astarion," he barely registers her pathetic little whine through the haze. She finally allows herself to grab onto him, the loose sleeve of his nightshirt tightening in her fist. For purchase, he tells himself with what little is left of his consciousness, practical. That is until he lowers himself fully onto her in an attempt to relieve the strain on his biceps.

With no space left between their bodies, he doesn’t anticipate the blazing heat of her core on his thigh, even through the several layers of clothing. She gasps at the sudden pressure,  fingers twitching, nails digging little crescent shapes into his skin. What surprises him most, though, is when the taste in his mouth melts into a flavor so much sweeter. 

Something primal within him recognizes it instantly; it twists in his gut and sits there heavily, as if the emotion were his own: arousal.

Oh.

She is burning for him.

Good.

After all of that teasing, the woman he’s spent weeks enduring endless lectures from actually does desire him, or at the very least desires his body. Which is just as favorable, in his opinion. It’s just nice to know all his hard work hasn’t gone to waste. 

If she lets him live, he's going to spend every waking moment tormenting her over this. His lips vibrate against her skin as he chuckles to himself, causing some of her blood to run down his chin in hot rivulets, blooming new stains onto her sheets. 

He knows he’s had enough. He means to let go, he truly does, lest he end up draining their groups' only hope of survival. Surely that wouldn't go over well with their companions. Pitchforks, and all that. 

But her whimpering, her heat, coupled with the ferocity of his hunger, all provoke a feeling that has been building beneath the surface which he’s unable to name; it's desperate and possessive, a predator guarding its kill from hungry scavengers. The monster in him casts a dark shadow over his mind as he feeds. His body no longer feels as though it is his own, betraying him; a slave to the demands of his appetite. 

He needs her, needs all of her, and he cannot will himself to stop, too lost in sensation and the sound of her mewling to bow to his higher thinking. 

He mindlessly rocks his weight into her and grunts—a slow, unintentional grind against her mound. The motion comes easy to him, like breathing - instinctual. The blunt edge of his clothed cock drags deliciously through her parted thighs. Evelyn’s breath hitches at the feeling, her squirming beneath him giving him the sickest form of satisfaction, but the animal within him demands her compliance.

His hand gathers her loose hair and pulls, growling, warning her to keep still. She whines at the force, back arching. The other grabs her arm, pinning it down, and tightens, thumb gently stroking against her wrist.

"Astarion,"

She’s no doubt making a mess in her smallclothes as she quivers beneath him, all flushed cheeks and furrowed brows. She may deny it later, but her taste tells him everything he needs to know.

Her body is burning against his cool skin, and her gasps are only spurring him on. He laps at the wound, dragging his tongue up the length of her throat, indulging himself in her. It's too much. 

He feels her pulse weakening, her rhythm slowing.

It isn't enough. 

He's about to latch on to her again, teeth at the ready and blinded by his eagerness, when he suddenly feels a piercing sensation behind his eye - the tadpole, he assumes, writhing in panic. Screeching at him to open himself to it. The discomfort is just enough to pull him back into his body. Then Evelyn's voice invades his mind. 

‘Astarion, enough!’

He disentangles his limbs from hers, practically jumping off of the poor woman. He’s gasping for breath as he comes to his senses, the mix of her blood and his saliva staining his lips pink. It dribbles down his chin. He wipes his face with the back of his knuckles and licks them clean.

But then, the cold realization of what he’s done is thrust upon him like a bucket of iced water, shocking him back to the present. He’s going to need to come up with one hell of an apology to get himself out of this one. Or maybe he should just run? Baldur’s Gate is really only a few weeks travel at most. 

“Shit,” he whispers, more to himself than to her. "Are you alright, dear?"

Evelyn's eyes meet his. Her pupils are blown, almost entirely overtaking the gold of her irises when she glances away from him to assess the damage.

"Gods damn it," she quietly groans and applies pressure to the wound, thankfully finding that it isn't too deep or particularly painful. She tends to it, wiping the thin sheen of sweat from her brow. She searches for a rag as she avoids his concerned stare

A deep purple bruise spreads across her pale skin. Small red droplets trickle down the length of her nape, dampening her black breast band before soaking into it and disappearing entirely. He collects himself, willing his mind to cease its incessant urge to lick the damned liquid from her neck. She is flushed and sweating, unbalanced, panting from exertion as much as her own embarrassment. Her dark hair is a tangled mess from his attention. She looks ravaged. 

It… suits her.

Astarion clears his throat, trying his best not to get caught admiring his handiwork.

She was right about one thing. He was, at least in some respects, just a man... 

“Here,” he insists, grabbing one of the smaller furs and holding it up to her. She takes it from him without acknowledgement.

“I -” He begins, but he’s at a loss for words. What does one say in this situation? ‘My sincerest apologies. I don’t know what came over me! I must have gotten swept up in the moment!’ as if that pitiful excuse would overshadow the fact that he manhandled and almost devoured her.

He wants to laugh, but the sound dies in his throat.

He begins to worry that she really may not forgive him. He fears she'll wake the whole camp, or maybe finally cast him out like the monster he is. He wouldn't blame her. She took a great leap of faith in trusting him with this, and he rutted against her like some horny bugbear. Or worse, a teenager, he sneers.

Evelyn pulls the rabbit skin away from her neck, examining it. The brown hairs are matted and crimson, but the bleeding has stopped. She runs her fingers over the puncture marks, feeling the skin dip slightly where his fangs pierced her. She sighs with resignation, surely thinking about how the others will approach her with a plethora of questions tomorrow morning, face reddening at the idea.

“You could have warned me, you know.” She rolls her eyes at him. “I didn’t realize I was agreeing to…all of that.” 

His heart sinks. 

Of course she thinks it was on purpose. I mean, look at him. He’s all but thrown himself at her since the moment they met. He’s spent this entire time playing the part of the rake. It's only natural she assumes the worst.

“Evelyn, darling,” speaking her name aloud brings her focus back onto him. 

The gravity of it is suffocating, condensing the already small space they shared. The tension pulls at something undefinable within him that he thought was long dead—a sincerity that betrays the character he’s been crafting for as long as he can remember. 

It sways him.

More truths to forgive more transgressions, then. A fair transaction.

“I’ve had this condition for over two centuries, but, truth be told,” he clears his throat again, because ugh this is awful. And why does she have to stare at him like that, with her earnest, wet eyes? “You were my first. I’ve only ever fed on beasts.” 

The implication is there: how could he have known?

His confession takes her by surprise. “You don’t…” she pauses, taking everything that transpired tonight into consideration. He must be giving her a look akin to pleading, because she takes mercy on him and disregards whatever question she was about to ask. 

“Please tell me you didn’t do that to the boar.”

Seriously, a joke?

He barks out a laugh before he can stifle it. Whether it's from the sheer ridiculousness of the question or the disbelief towards her acceptance of it all, he truly doesn’t know.

“No, my dear. Just you, and you were delectable.”

Her expression is difficult to read. She’s not looking at him; refuses to, when she replies, “So then, did it work?”

Astarion moves to stand, peering down at her form. He exhales in relief, feeling as though he is a century younger. His muscles are lax; all the stress has been drained from his body. A novel experience. “Yes, I would say so. I feel stronger. My mind is clear. I feel…happy.”

He adds the last word in an effort to appease her, but it does ring true. His main source of joy since he contracted this affliction has been causing others pain, ripping out throats and such. This feels distinctly different, less exhilarating, but pleasant all the same.

“Well, I look forward to seeing you fight.” 

He acknowledges her, then stretches his back out, extending his arms to the sky with his hands clasping behind his head. The motion pulls the rest of his nightshirt out of his trousers and tugs it upward, exposing the hard edges of his hips. He can’t confirm it, but he swears he sees her eyes flit quickly towards them before making an expeditious retreat.

“Shouldn’t take long. So many people need killing.” He lifts the flap of her tent to peek outside. No sign of anyone stirring, and the night is still young. Knowing the wildlife in this area, he may still have a chance to sate himself. With his newfound strength, he may even be able to wrangle up a bear. What a feast that would make.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, you’re invigorating, but I need something more filling.” He bows his head to her in thanks. 

He’s about to step outside, one foot exits the canvas before the rest of him, when it hits him that he feels…odd, uncomfortable leaving her like this. He can’t place his finger on why. He’s ridden atop many women and left without saying a word.

But, he supposes this is dissimilar.

Evelyn listened to him tonight, heard him out when anyone else would have carved him into pieces without second thought. She let him drink from her, forgave him for getting…carried away. 

The most shocking part of it all is that regardless of her dismissiveness, he now undeniably knows that she’s attracted to him. Yet, she didn’t capitalize on the opportunity when it arose to take advantage of his altered state; of his needs. With that, she’s shown him more kindness in the last hour than he’s experienced in his entire undead life. 

He likely owes her for this, of course, but there are worse fates he could endure.

The elf looks over his shoulder at her and catches her watching him intently, as if she wants to continue this conversation but can’t quite figure out what she wants to say. The intensity of her gaze almost forces him to turn back towards her, drawn to her by an unfamiliar ache; a thrill in his spine, the compulsion pulling at his chest like some sort of spell.

“This is a gift, you know.” The words escape him, hanging in the air between them with raw authenticity. He means to make himself sound more frivolous, but before he can edit them in his head, more truth spills from his lips, “I won’t forget it.”

His throat tightens. He considers her for a moment, wondering what he might find if he does turn to meet her eyes.

But, Astarion resists.

She must be exhausted. He shouldn’t take up any more of her time.

He leaves before she can respond. There wasn’t anything left for them to discuss, and he’s desperate to break free from the uneasy weight of her presence.

The second he steps fully outside, he feels as though he can breathe again, not that he needs to, being undead and all. 

What a strange feeling, that was. 

One he decides he’d rather forget. Best to not burden himself too much with it.

The taste of her lingers on his teeth. He finds himself savoring it for a moment too long before stalking towards the forest, confident. Ready to hunt. 

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion fic #astarion x tav #fanfic #bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 oc #im muting every bit of social media i have after posting this lmfao #evelyn

[loser-fics]

The Game Plan (Shawn Hunter x reader)

Summary: Topanga, Cory and Angela are tired of seeing you and Shawn being so obviously in love yet not together, and plan to change that for the better.

______________________________________________________________

Approaching your locker, you locked eyes with Shawn. A sweet smile formed on his face and you almost dropped the books you were holding.

“Hey.”

“Hey…”

After about 5 minutes of getting lost in each others eyes, Cory waved his hands in front of both your faces, snapping you both out of it. You blinked a few times before registering what he was actually saying.

“Er hello? Earth to lovebirds? Can you hear me?”

Neither you or Shawn corrected him after calling you that, neither of you ever did when he called you two a relationship-y term. You did wonder if he liked you back but he was always dating someone else up until now.

“What is it about each other that’s making you both so quiet?” Angela spoke, looking at you, and then at Shawn, and back again a few times.

Neither of you got to answer before the bell rang and you all went to your next class.

/inside Feeny’s class/

Cory leant back on his chair and turned to face Shawn.

“Why haven’t you asked them out already?”

Shawn sighed before starting to answer

“Well I-“

“Mr Hunter, Mr Matthews, do you have something more interesting to talk about than my lesson?” Feeny said, eyeing the two.

“No.” The two groaned before Feeny started lecturing them on whatever they missed while talking.

While Feeny was distracted, Angela turned to you.

“Look that boy loves you, we can all tell, why don’t you ask him out?”

“I just can’t-”

“And why not?”

“Because… it’s never the right time, I never get a chance, I don’t know-”

“Maybe I’ll help you find a chance”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Wait and see Y/N, don’t worry, I’ll take care of it”

/after class in a hallway/

Cory cornered Shawn before asking him again.

“Why. Have. You. Not. Asked. Y/N. Out, I know you’re in love Shawn, actually I think everyone knows”

“I don’t know how.”

“What? You’ve asked people out a million times before, what’s the difference?”

“The difference is… I really like Y/N, and I think I want a real lasting relationship with them I just- oh god they’re gonna think they’re just another two week-er”

“No, Shawn-”

“Just forget about it Cory…” Shawn said before walking off.

Cory turned around to see Topanga, who’d heard the entire thing, and had the same half shocked, half sympathetic look on her face as Cory did.

“I’m tired of seeing them pining over each other all the time” Angela said, walking up to Topanga and Cory.

“Agreed” Topanga nodded, “But how do we make them realise it themselves?”

They thought for a moment before Topanga spoke again.

“Actually… we could always play a game.”

“What game-” Cory responded in confusion

“7 minutes in heaven.”

“That’s not the worst idea-“ Angela spoke before she was interrupted by Cory.

“Oh come on, we’re not 12, in what circumstance would we ever possibly do that. Cory said, attempting to shut down the idea as a whole. “Honestly honey, I would be easier to just lock them in there-”

“CORY!”

“What, they’d get mad at us for a minute before realising they’re alone. together.”

“Cory we can’t just lock them in a closet, and honestly I think they’d be up for 7 minutes in heaven, they want to be together don’t they? This gives them a chance.”

“Angela’s right, now you get Shawn and we’ll get Y/N. Tell him we’re all just gonna hang out at your place. We take a few minutes of just talking before I propose the idea. Then for authenticity, when they agree, I’ll spin around with my eyes shut pointing at whoever will go in. To make sure it’s going to be them, cough when I’m pointing at them, we all understand the plan?”

Angela and Cory nodded.

“Great, meet at yours, 8 o’clock.”

/Cory’s house, 8pm/

All of you had gathered in Cory’s room and had been talking for a while before you finally said something about the huge pile of clothes on the floor, next to his empty closet.

“You rearranging or something?” You said as you gestured to the pile.

“Well actually” Cory said, standing up, “Topanga thought it would be fun if we played 7 minutes in heaven”

“Why exactly, Topanga?” Shawn questioned. His confused face was so cute, he scrunched his nose a bit and he put a hand on the back of his neck-

“I thought it would be nice if we all played some old games, y’know er- see if it’s any different now.”

“Er ok… well I’m in I guess, Y/N, Angela?” Shawn responded, still looking confused.

You and Angela nodded before Topanga stood up getting in the middle of the room and shutting her eyes.

“Ok everyone move around since I know here you are, and if I turn to a wall then I’ll go in”

You all did as she said, before she started spinning around with her finger out, pointing at whoever she turned to.

Cory coughed rather loudly just as Topanga had turned to Shawn.

Topanga smiled when she saw the plan piecing together.

“Well Shawn it is with……”

Shawn winked to no one in particularly before walking to lean against the closet as Topanga started spinning.

Cory coughed again as she turned to you.

“Y/N!”

Your eyes widened and you turned to look at Shawn who had the same expression, before he noticed you looking and quickly changed to a smirk.

“Well babe, c’mon in” he gestured to the closet before you both walked in.

Cory shut the doors, leaving you both in near complete darkness. It was small the two of you were pressed against each other slightly. You were about to say something before you heard Cory yell.

“OH NO I LOST THE KEY…”

Angela and Topanga looked at him with a surprised and slightly disappointed expression before Topanga whisper shouted at him.

“WHAT KEY, IT’S A CLOSET!!”

“I THOUGHT THEY MIGHT NEED MORE THAN 7 MINUTES!!” Cory whisper shouted back.

“YOU IDIOT”

“Key?” Shawn questioned.

“I think we just have to go with it” You replied.

“So….”

“…So…”

You looked down for a second before Shawn slowly brought his hands to yours, talking hold of them. You looked up at him and he pulled you closer.

“Y/N.” He quickly sighed nervously.

“Yeah?”

“I love you. I love you so much, I’ve been in love with you for ages, i-”

He paused to look at you, studying your expression. One of relief mixed with joy and… love.

“I love you too.”

“Y/N do you- do you wanna-”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Of course” you said as you took your hands away from his and wrapped them around him, and the leaning in to kiss him. He kissed you back, deeply, now holding your waist.

You made out for a while… a long while. You wanted him so badly you could just-

“HEY LOVEBIRDS IT’S BEEN HALF AN HOUR” Cory yelled.

“WHAT HAVE YOU FOUND YOUR KEY NOW?” Shawn yelled back.

“…YES.” Cory opened the doors and you and Shawn begrudgingly walked out, him putting one arm around you.

“So….?!” Topanga looked at you two.

“Yes we’re together.” You responded

“IT REALLY DID WORK-!” Cory said before Topanga covered his mouth with her hand.

“What worked?” Shawn questioned, looking at Cory.

“Nothing, just he’s happy you’re finally together” Angela responded.

You and Shawn looked at each other before sharing another kiss, which was followed by a number of ‘awwwww’s.

<3

______________________________________________________________

A/N: no details of the make out because quite frankly I don’t know how to make out, make it up for yourselves kids.

#shawn hunter #shawn hunter x reader #shawn hunter imagines #boy meets boy #boy meets world imagine #lol I really don’t know how to make out this was all I could muster #rider strong

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Five Fics Friday: January 12/24

Happy Friday everyone!! I hope you had a wonderful week, and are ready to enjoy some more fic recs to get you started on the weekend! Enjoy!!

RECENTLY BOOKMARKED

Spare Parts by Raina_at (E, 63,497 w., 10 Ch. || 24th Century / Futurism AU || Post TRF, Pre-TRF Relationship, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Estrangement, Reconciliation, Science Fiction, Reunion, Nightmares, Angry John, Cybernetic John, Emotional Discussions / Heart to Heart, POV John, Scars, Past Drug Use, Forehead Touching, Emotional Lovemaking, Kissing, Apologies, Kidnapping, Rescue Mission, BAMF John, Bed Sharing, Top Sherlock) – Two years ago, Sherlock Holmes jumped off the roof of New London Hospital. Two months ago, he walked into John's clinic as if no time had passed at all. John hasn't seen him since. But then Sherlock knocks on John's door with a case he can't say no to, and while figuring out why the biggest manufacturer or synthetic limbs in the System is going after veterans, they also need to find out whether there's a way to fix what's broken between them. Part 1 of Realigning Gravity

Fade To Black by twistedthicket1 (M, 93,389 w., 29 Ch. || Split Personality Disorder / DID, Action, Romance, Violence, Implied Rape/Non-Con, BAMF John, Fluff and Angst, Baskerville, Human Experimentation, PTSD, Implied Self Harm, Trauma Amnesia, Past Child Sexual Abuse, Protective Sherlock, Smoking, Meddling Mycroft, Past Victor/Sherlock, Gay Sherlock, Sherlock’s Past, First Kiss/Time) – John Watson believes one day he'll just fade. That he'll drown in the black spaces of his mind, and that one day he will no longer exist. It's always been like this, the dark spots marking out moments in his life he can't remember. Where for just a moment he's someone else. Having a Dissociative identity disorder, he can't even be entirely sure he's really who he says he is. Then he meets Sherlock Holmes. A brilliant detective who when he looks at you can read your entire life story. John is immediately fascinated and afraid, half-wondering if maybe Sherlock can see the other personalities in him and half terrified of the thought of him finding out. Becoming his flatmate seems at once to be a wonderful and horrible idea. Yet as John's Blackouts become more and more severe and his other personalities begin to truly awaken and show themselves with Sherlock's help, the two soon discover that sometimes even the kindest person can harbour a demon best left untouched inside of them. Because not all of John's other personalities play nicely and some may be hiding secrets best left undisturbed...

MARKED FOR LATER

Hand Me the Salt, Love? by topsyturvy_turtely (G, 554 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Pet Names, Flustered Sherlock, Cooking, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Fluff Without Plot) – John is cooking. Sherlock is not helping. Until...

Locked Room by Calais_Reno (T, 8,346 w., 2 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting AU || Pool Scene, Mystery, Near Death Experience, Drug Addiction, Serious Injuries, Temporary Amnesia, POV Alternating, Love Confessions, Happy Ending) – John wakes up in a locked room, unable to remember how he got here. The last thing he remembers is his hands covered in blood, trying to keep a soldier from dying. His roommate also seems to be suffering from amnesia, and has decided that John is a delusion. Part 33 of Just Johnlock

Walk of Shame by 72reasons (E, 14,355+ w., 9/? Ch. || WiP || Alternate First Meeting AU || Meet-Ugly, Bisexual John, Gay Sherlock, Alternating POV, Sad John, Suicidal Thoughts, Casual Sex, Strangers to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Threesome, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Frottage, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex) – John is just back from the war and wanders the city wondering what he’s going to do. One of his distractions is having casual sex with a beautiful, but annoying, woman. Sherlock usually refrains from sex, but in trying to stay sober he indulges in it now and again. Sherlock meets John on the street and sparks fly. Casual sex is one thing, but what about something more?

#five fics friday #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs

[asoiafsworld]

HEADCANON; AEMOND TARGARYEN, AN ALPHA, COURTING AND MARRYING YOU, AN OMEGA

pairing; alpha aemond targaryen x omega fem!reader

first; may i request courtship hcs for alpha!aemond x omega!reader? but the reader is racially ambiguous? You can sprinkle in some nsfw if you like

second request; listen ok all i need is possessive alpha!aemond with a breeding kink i’m begging you

warnings; nsfw (18+), omegaverse, alpha and omega, heat and rut, knotting, scenting, claiming, biting, breeding, praising, degradation, penetrative sex, oral sex (f receiving)

author's note; i have been in such a daze of writing for my love aemond and im finally getting to write a/b/o aaaaa!!! thanks for the requests <3

masterlist

⊱ ───────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ───────── ⊰

➼ you arrive at court as a lady in waiting for princess helaena and naturally, you spend a lot of time with her

➼ your house is well known by most for its wonderful wine and beautiful fabrics but it isn't as powerful as the great houses of westeros so when your father's offer to serve as a lady in waiting was accepted, your family is happy about it

➼ you don't care about it much at first but after you start to befriend helaena, you start to be a little happier in such a foreign place

➼ it is difficult for you as an omega to leave your home, to leave the people you had always known but you have to adjust and adapt

➼ you know the other royal family members but only met them in passing so far since you had not attended any balls or feasts yet

➼ however, a certain scent that lingers on helaena's dress one evening distracts you because it smells so incredibly intoxicating

➼ you have to physically restrain from smelling it because it's so addicting to you, the smell of pine trees and pine cones infiltrating your nose and almost invading your senses

➼ you wonder who this alpha is, with a scent so intoxicating to you and after you notice the pattern of when you would smell this alpha scent on helaena and her stories of who she had been with on those days, you deduct that it can only be prince aemond, her brother

➼ you had heard many things about him of course

➼ aemond the one eyed they call him, the stories of him looking like a monster that would scare children sounding ridiculous to you

➼ you haven't ever talked to him but you have seen him from afar and know he doesn't look menacing or scary

➼ how could anyone with a alpha scent as dizzying and wonderful as this be a monster? your omega gets feral at the idea of being with the actual alpha of that scent

➼ you don't say anything about it to helaena, unsure of how she would react

➼ after a few weeks there is a feast for the queen's nameday, the first feast since your arrival

➼ your family is of course expecting you to find a husband there since it is the whole point of your position at court

➼ you get dressed in the most beautiful dress you have from the beautiful fabrics of your home and helaena lends you jewelry fitting for it

➼ you have become good friends with the princess in the time that you have been attending to her and it makes things easier for you to have a friend who ranks highly at court

➼ when you're at the feast, you mostly stand next to helaena since you don't know most other people and honestly, they seem like they are very full of themselves and not good company

➼ at these kind of feasts, omegas often stand with each other to be safe from alphas but it's not uncommon to see an alpha and omega talk by themselves, especially when they want to get to know each other better

➼ you're somewhat scared of meeting aemond because you can only hope that your omega can control itself

➼ but you already feel like you're dying when he comes closer to both of you, his alpha scent even more intense when it's coming from him and not from helaena

➼ helaena smiles as he approaches both of you and introduces you happily as her lady in waiting

➼ he looks at you with such intensity as he takes your hand and places a kiss on the back of it

➼ your scent is close to him like this and you can see him not even trying to hide that he's breathing it in as much as he can

➼ "how lovely to finally meet you, my lady. i have smelt your scent on helaena many times recently and it is nice to put such a beautiful face on a wonderful scent."

➼ you blush heavily at his words and realize that he has been after your scent just as much as you have been after his

➼ he starts to talk to you, asks you where you come from, what made you come to court and how you have been liking it

➼ he is so kind to you and you don't understand why others had been warning you about him and telling you what a terrible monster he is supposed to be

➼ he constantly gives you compliments during your conversation and he smirks everytime you blush and smile shyly

➼ when the music starts playing he asks you to dance with him and helaena secretly celebrates her masterplan of getting both of you to talk with each other since her brother had been pestering her about meeting the lady that possessed the sweet scent that she carried with her

➼ you can barely concentrate on his words because of how his hand feels on your waist

➼ his eye never leaves your sight and always watches your every move, every flutter of your lashes when his grip on your waist tightens, the way you unconsciously lean closer to him to smell his scent

➼ both of you never really leave each other's side the entire night, the prince being so enamored with you and your shy, sweet being

➼ he knew that he wanted you from the moment he smelled your scent but like this, getting to know you and smell your scent closer, it was official for him

➼ it's the same for you, learning about how kind and brave of an alpha he is, how strong his muscles look through his clothes and how charming he is with you

➼ so after you spend even more time with him for some days, he officially asks to court you and of course you say yes

➼ he tries to hide his happiness but he smiles so brightly and beautifully at you when you say yes

➼ with the courtship, you can feel a certain barrier between you two go down, the one that always stands between an alpha and omega when they are not official

➼ because of your courtship with the prince, you are more involved in dinners with the royal family and overall spend more time with them

➼ of course helaena is the first one to congratulate you and hug you excitedly

➼ aegon, aemond's brother congratulates you with a smirk and says something inaudible to aemond afterwards who only rolls his eyes in annoyance

➼ the queen is hesitant about you as she is with everyone outside of her children

➼ she plays the role of a polite queen, congratulates you with a smile but you can tell that she is not that happy about it since your house is not very established but still acceptable enough

➼ and with your courtship, you and aemond are officially allowed to scent each other

➼ and it kind of puts both of your lives on hold for a day or two

➼ you spend so much time in his quarters and constantly nose at his neck, so addicted to the way he smells

➼ you lick and kiss his scent gland and he enjoys it a lot, knowing you are so addicted to the way he smells

➼ he has to warn you to stop when he feels how aroused it makes him feel but he's just as bad in showing restraint when he scents you

➼ the first time he does it he can't let off of your neck for hours, licking and biting on it and he's in a daze because of you

➼ like he literally pins you to the wall, one hand on the back of your head and the other on your waist, not very appropriate in courtship but he doesn't care in the slightest

➼ you can only supress your moans for a limited amount of time and when he hears you moan out his name for the first time, he presses his lower body against yours and bites down hard, right on your scent gland which makes you whimper with your eyes closed and head thrown back

➼ you press your legs together at how good it feels for him to be devouring you like this, so good that you feel your cunt throbbing with want and the smell of your slick perminating the air around you and you can't imagine how good it will feel when he actually lays with you

➼ he suddenly stops and looks up from your neck with a dazed but hungry look in his eyes

➼ "what is that smell? it's like your scent but.. stronger and sweeter, what is it?"

➼ you blush brightly and feel embarrassed at how openly the scent of your slick perminates the air

➼ "it's... t-the smell of my slick, my prince."

➼ his eye dialates at that and he's suddenly on his knees and before you know it, he's holding your skirts up and has his mouth on your cunt

➼ you cry out in shock and your eyes widen at the sudden intrusion on your pussy, never having felt someone do this to you and your legs tremble heavily at the way his tongue and mouth devour you

➼ it feels so euphoric, the way he goes from sucking on your clit to pushing his tongue inside you, drinking up your slick as if it was air to breathe

➼ it only took you a few moments to come because of the way he had previously been making you sensitive and wet

➼ your slick releases all over his mouth and the way he drinks all of it up makes you feel dizzy, your legs trembling so hard

➼ aemond doesn't stop eating you out, wants to keep going back after you had already cum but there is a knock on the door

➼ you still but aemond doesn't seem to care, teasing your nub with the tip of his tongue and it feels so warm and addicting to you

➼ the servant at the door alerts you about the tea you would be having in the gardens with the queen and princess and you tell her that you'll be there right away

➼ you have to push aemond's head away from your cunt and bite your lip at the way his entire chin is covered in your slick and he only smirks up at you

➼ "i think i have found the nectar of life, my lady."

➼ you only complain about how disheveled he has made you look and you make quick work of making your hair look better and hide your neck as good as you can with your hair since it looks as if you had been maimed

➼ aemond looks very proud of himself and you only glare when he steals one last kiss from you before you leave

➼ "i fear that you will not get me off of you for the next few weeks, my lady... your cunt is simply too delicious."

➼ you feign to be shocked at his words but by now know that he is simply bold and brave about the things he wants

➼ your courting period is very pleasant and aemond is so sweet to you

➼ he gifts you different necklaces and earrings and tells you that he saw them and thought they would look beautiful on you

➼ you always blush heavily and every day you spend time with him, you fall more in love with him

➼ you always tell helaena about what you two did together and what he had gifted you and she was always so excited to talk about it with you

➼ at some point you start discussing these things at tea when her mother is present too and she starts to get involved in it too

➼ that's how you start bonding with her because to her, it feels like she's a young girl again, giggling over handsome knights with rhaenyra

➼ except now she's giggling with her future daughter in law over how sweet her son is and she genuinely starts to like you and sees that aemond loves you

➼ he also takes you on rides with vhagar since it's important to him that you're not scared of her

➼ the old dragon feels through aemond's bond to her that you're important to him so she's nice to you, lets you pet her and nudges you softly when you stop because she likes it when you pet her

➼ he's just very soft with you and likes to be in your presence because you understand him so well, comfort him when he's feeling insecure

➼ also pushes the bound on what's appropriate during courtship

➼ he knows that other men at court look at you and want you for themselves, think they can take you away because you'll eventually think that he's too ugly for you

➼ he's sadly always been very insecure because of his eye and he belives it so he does everything for other alphas to stay away

➼ like scents you in public so much that you smell more like him than yourself, gets so close to you that he almost kisses you, has his hands dangerously low on your back which makes you glare at him

➼ and again, he's very serious about your slick. like in the first few weeks after he eats you out for the first time, he continues to do it even though it's definitely not appropriate to do before you're married

➼ like he steals you away three times a day just to make your legs tremble and drink up every single drop of your juices

➼ like no one can convince me that this man wouldn't run around like a cave man and have his mind on your pussy and slick all day

➼ at some point during your courtship, he goes into rut and it hurts your omega to not be as close as possible to him since you have affections for him

➼ you want to help him but since you're not married and claimed yet, you're not allowed to go anywhere near his chambers

➼ you're sitting in your room, your omega blaming itself for leaving your alpha in agony when the queen comes in looking quite distraught

➼ "my darling girl, i fear this rut has hit aemond harshly. his alpha has gotten used to your presence in the past weeks and even if you are not married or claimed by him yet, it is very hard for him to do this without you. i would not ask this of you if it was not so unbearable for him so i wanted to know if you could scent a few things and give them to me so i can bring them to him. it would make it oh so easier for him."

➼ you immediately comply with her request, would go to his chambers right now and let the alpha fuck you if it was asked of you

➼ giving your scented clothing to an alpha is definitely not appropriate but you could not care in the slightest

➼ you scent a few dresses that you wore most recently knowing the scent would linger for a while and if it was not enough, you could always send more

➼ queen alicent looks so relieved when you comply, even hugs you and kisses you on the cheek when you hand her your dresses

➼ "i will not forget your kindness, little one. i can imagine he will not wait long to marry you when this rut is over."

➼ you blush at her words and watch her leave with your scented clothes and hope it eases the prince's rut

➼ to go through ruts and heats alone is difficult for unmarried alphas and omegas but expected, of women at least

➼ but when an alpha and omega have affections for each other, are close to loving each other but can't spend it together it is very painful

➼ after five very long, very agonizing days for you, a servant tells you that the prince's rut is over and that he wishes to see you at once

➼ you practically run to his chambers and once you're inside, you smell the very recent smell of alpha rut and it makes you feel a litte dazed because the scent is so fucking alluring and mouthwatering to you

➼ aemond is sitting on his bed, a good distance away and he signals for you to stay at the door so he wouldn't do anything uncalled for since his head is still in a daze of the past few days

➼ you comply but only because you don't think that you can hold yourself back if you get closer to him... the smell of rut is making your omega curious and needy

➼ "thank you for the dresses, my love, it was so very sweet of you to give them to me. i... apologize greatly for ruining your dresses. i hope the stains can get washed out."

➼ your omega is so pleased when you hear that he has stained them with what you can only assume would be his cum... you can't help but let out a needy whimper

➼ aemond balls his hand into a fist at the sound and stands up, only to walk further away from his previous spot

➼ "i can not control myself with you... i take one look at you and remember how i screamed and ached for you the past five days, how i smelled your dress and came all over it like a little boy. i need you, my omega. i can not risk coming closer to you today so i ask like this... i want you to marry me. i want you, in every shape and form, all your sweetness and kindness."

➼ tears gather in your eyes and you tell him that you would love to marry him

➼ you want to kiss him so badly but keep your distance for today, the aftereffects of his rut still there

➼ the queen writes to your father and he obviously agrees to it, aemond is a targaryen prince after all

➼ preparations for the wedding start soon and it's all very fast, you barely spend any time being engaged before your wedding

➼ the reason for that is you realizing that your heat would be very soon and there were many dangers in spending it alone, the queen knows that so she prepares everything as fast as possible

➼ you feel your pre-heat creep up on you on the day of the wedding but know that you can get through the day

➼ and it ends up being wonderful, so many people are there for the wedding and feast and you and aemond are so happy

➼ you excuse yourself early on with your husband and are happy to finally leave and make a nest for your alpha and you

➼ you make him scent several of his clothes, pillows and blankets and arrange them as you desire, so concentrated and focused on making a good nest for your alpha

➼ said alpha watches you with a sweet smile on his face, so in love with how focused you are

➼ when you're finished you look up at him expectedly and hope that he likes it

➼ he takes your face in his hands and presses kisses all over your face, knowing that his omega needed a lot of attention and care right now

➼ "it's beautiful. you did so well, my wonderful omega."

➼ you smile happily at that and kiss him on his lips, so in love and happy with him

➼ he helps you get out of your dress and you don't hesitate to get naked due to how safe your omega feels with him which makes him stare at you without pause

➼ you whine needily and tug at his clothes and he laughs at how cute you are

➼ he sees that you become almost non verbal during your pre heat and mostly express your distaste for something by scrunching your nose and it's so cute, he loves you so much

➼ eventually you lie with him in your nest, naked and kiss and scent each other until you're both breathless and it's the last straw for your heat to completely take over

➼ of course he has to eat you out before anything else, claiming it's so you would take him better but considering that your body automatically prepares itself to take a knot when you're in heat, it made no sense

➼ so he makes you cum three times with his mouth before he gets anywhere close with his cock

➼ makes sure you scream out for how good your alpha makes you feel and you're a shaking mess when he's made you cum the third time, your pussy sensitive and tears coming out of your eyes from the overstimulation

➼ keeps mumbling about how good your slick tastes and doesn't understand that he is expected to have a life outside of between your legs

➼ because to him, the world can crash and burn around both of you and he would still continue to eat your pussy out

➼ eventually, when he gets impatient himself, he pulls himself up and strokes himself before lining up with you

➼ you bite your lip at how big he is, how much his knot will swell and wish he would just split you in half with it already

➼ and then he finally does and oh... you understand in that moment why he's so obsessed with your cunt

➼ because you are now obsessed with his cock in the same way

➼ he immediately starts thrusting into you since your heat already prepared your body for this

➼ the way his cock and knot hit deep parts inside you that you have never felt before makes your cry and shake, holding onto your alpha for dear life

➼ and all he can do is fuck you hard and fast because he needs to, he craves you so badly

➼ your heat starts to smell in the entire room and your alpha nuzzles your scent gland, addicted to the sweet smell

➼ you're so overwhelmed with his thrusts and can barely form any words, your eyes half closed and your face distorted in pleasure from his fast and hard thrusts

➼ "my pretty omega, you take my cock so well, you were made for it... made to be my omega and only mine. god, you feel so fucking good, i'm never going to leave your cunt empty again. i'll breed and knot you over and over again and when you're pregnant, i'll do it as well, over and over, my love. want to see you full and pregnant like the obedient whore you are."

➼ you cry and whine at his words, so pleasurable that you finally come and it feels like flying towards the stars, as if you are a dragon as well

➼ he bites down on your neck at that moment and officially claims you that way, the bite marks on your neck not going away to mark you as his claimed omega

➼ "my omega, only mine, my pretty little love. forever my omega, you're always going to be mine."

➼ it doesn't take long for him to come either and when his cum streams into you, you whine and moan at how good it feels for you

➼ you bite down at your alpha's neck to claim him as well and it only makes his pleasure greater and you can feel even more cum shooting out of himself and inside you

➼ you tremble and breathe heavily at how pleasing it feels to be breeded by your alpha, your cunt so full now that you never want to not feel like this again

➼ aemond kisses your face and neck as you wait for his knot to go down and you bask in the sweet attention he's giving you

➼ "my good omega, my good little girl, you did well for alpha. i love you so much, my perfect love, such a good omega."

➼ you smile happily at that, the haze of your heat having subsided at the feeling of being knotted

➼ after a few minutes, he pulls out and you whine at how empty you feel and at how the cum is coming out of your pussy whilst aemond watches in fascination and arousal at how much he had cum inside you and at how it's all coming out now

➼ you whimper and try to close your legs as he eyes you but he only holds your knees apart and slaps your cunt, a stern expression on his face

➼ "let alpha admire you in peace, be a good omega for me and don't whine. you'll get enough cum inside of you tonight to make a dozen children."

#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond imagine #alpha aemond #omega reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond headcanons

[bubblebaththoughts]

Hey Neighbor!

Joel Miller Fic

pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x F!Reader

onesided!Tommy Miller x F!Reader

a/n: as I'm making this, I've decided to make it a series instead of a short, sooo this is part one

Warnings: Warnings: violence, eventual smut, pining, mention of past self harm, drug use/mention of drug usage, mention of death, explicit language,

Summary: Being new to the neighborhood, Y/n didn't know how to introduce herself to her new neighbors, until one day, the neighbors daughter is sitting on the porch, because she was locked out. Friendship between the girl and the young woman ensue, beginning a blossom of confusion, love, and heartbreak that have consumed Y/n's nights

*no smut in this chapter luv.*

It had been two weeks since she'd moved in. At first, she wasn't sure she even had neighbors to the left of her.

Mr. and Mrs. Harris, to the right of her new home, had knocked on her door on her second day there, introducing themselves and telling her to "just holler" if she needed anything.

She finally caught a glimpse of her neighbors to the left, two days ago when she heard a car door slam, making her look up and out of the window that was facing the noise, their driveway was about ten feet from her kitchen window, not something she was exactly used to, but nothing that bothered her either. As she peered out of the window she saw an angry-looking man, a smiling man, and a younger girl who was trying to hide her smile.

"You two think you're so funny, huh?" The angry man asked as he began to march toward their front door

"Oh come on Dad!" The girl groaned as she went after him

Y/n looked down, minding her own business again. At least she knew someone lived there now.

It was now a quiet Monday afternoon, Y/n had barely pulled into her driveway before she noticed the girl, she was alone, sitting on the stairs of the porch, her elbows on her knees with her hands holding her chin up.

"Hey Neighbor!" The girl called from the porch

"Um, hi!" Y/n smiled awkwardly at her as she closed her truck door, she had never been to great with any social situations.

The girl stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder, and began crossing the yard to where y/n was. "Sorry we haven't officially met, my Dad asked me not to bother the new neighbor." She explained "I'm Sarah." She smiled

"I'm Y/n." She smiled back

"I know this is really awkward but could I please borrow your phone? The Adler's are at the wellness center in the city and I'm, uh, locked out." Sarah asked, following Y/n up the steps and to her front door.

"Yeah! Of course!" Y/n nodded as she unlocked the door

Y/n lead Sarah inside, handing her the phone and stepped back, giving her privacy to make her call.

Y/n walks to her kitchen, staring out of the window, remembering the first time she had seen her neighbors, thinking of the smiles on their faces and the scowl on the man's face.

After a minute, Sarah wanders in to the kitchen also, handing Y/n back the phone.

"My dad wants to talk to you." She mumbled, leaving the phone in the woman's hands as she already gotten distracted by the pictures that had already been put up on the wall.

Y/n put the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Oh, you're a woman?" The man sounded surprised

Protective dad, all too familiar to Y/n.

"Uh- Yeah, last time I checked." She scoffed

"Oh, sorry ma'am, thought some strange man had invited my daughter in." He tried to explain, relief in his voice

"I could be a strange woman." She challenged "And what made you think I was a man?"

"Well I'm hopin' you're not strange." He laughed "And I hate to say it but you have a big truck." He added

"Are you-"

Before she could even finish the question he started with "Not that women can't have big trucks, it's just that I haven't met you yet and just-" He sighed "Please don't take that the wrong way. I'm a single dad, I'm still figurin' this out."

Okay, the hot, angry, protective man from next door is single. Good to know.

"I get it, I'm the daughter of a single dad too." Y/n related, as she glanced over a Sarah, who was still peering at all the photos

That's what did it for Joel, this wasn't a creepy pyscho stranger that he needed to threaten to protect his daughter, now that he knew she could relate to Sarah about something like her homelife.

"I'm Joel." He finally said, introducing himself

"I'm Y/n." She reciprocated the introduction

"The earliest I can get off is eight, she said she didn't want to be a bother and would be fine hanging out on the back porch until then could you keep an eye out-

"No, Joel it's like ninety degrees outside. I'm not gonna let your daughter sit out there in that for four hours." Y/n brushed the idea off, very quickly "If it's fine with you she can hangout here until you get home."

Joel knew he didn't want his daughter out in the heat either, so he sighed, conflicted. "Put Sarah on the phone."

So Y/n handed Sarah the phone once again, this time hearing bits of Joel's voice as she stood only a few inches from Sarah.

She knew exactly what Joel was telling her.

The "be good" Dad talk is what Y/n had called it for as long as she could remember.

After a minute Sarah promised to behave and handed the phone back to Y/n refocusing on the pictures again.

"Hey, she's a good kid I swear," He started, she could hear his smile on the other end. "I'll be there as soon as I can, thank you so much."

"Of course, Bye Joel."

"Bye Y/n."

As soon as the phone was hung up, Sarah was asking questions immediately.

"Who's this?" She pointed to a picture of Y/n and Y/n's cousin, Jeremiah, who she hadn't seen since she was fifteen, due to the falling out of her father and his sister-in-law, her Aunt Jess.

"That's my cousin, Jeremiah." Y/n sighed, remembering the trouble that they used to get up to together

"He's cute." She smiled shyly

"Ew, no." Y/n shook her head, smiling at Sarah's shyness

"You wouldn't think so, he's your cousin." Sarah shrugged "Who's that?" She asked

Y/ns eyes found the picture, a very bittersweet picture, in her opinion.

"That's my grandmother." She smiled softly

"Oh, makes sense, you guys look like twins." Sarah pointed out the resemblance

"And them?" She asked again, pointing to a picture of three people

"That's my Dad, his best friend, and my Aunt Jess." Y/n answered

"So they're siblings?" Sarah asked pointing to Y/n's dad and her Aunt Jess

"No, she's my mom's sister and she's also Jeremiah's mom." Y/n explained

"So where's your mom at?" Sarah asked before she could stop herself

"Oh, um." Y/n cleared her throat before continuing "She died when I was little."

"Oh," Sarah mumbled "Mine too."

"So, why did you move here?" Sarah asked, gesturing to the neighborhood

"Job opportunity, along with some other technicality." Y/n explained "I did a touring and training today; tomorrow is my first official day."

Sarah's face then fell to a look of confusion, "You know, you don't seem like you're even old enough to have such a serious job."

"You sayin' I look young?" Y/n laughed.

Sarah nodded, "I'm sayin' there's no way you're any older than twenty-six."

"Well, you're right on the money kid, I am twenty-six" Y/n replied,

"So, what makes you think that younger people can't have good jobs?" Y/n asked, leaning on the counter,

"My dad says that people don't like to hire people with no experience." Sarah explained, "Him and my Uncle Tommy sort of have their own business."

"Sort of?" Y/n questions

"Yeah, sort of. My dad still works for this company that he's worked for since as long as I can remember. My Uncle has more time to put into the business, since he still gets 'pay checks' from the government." Sarah continued "He was in the military, but the government doesn't compensate for as much as they put them through."

"Wow, you sound more competent than most adults I know." Y/n laughed. turning to the fridge, to pull out the fruit she had just bought "You like strawberries?"

"Love em." Sarah nodded

So Y/n pushed the container of them towards Sarah. "They're really good, they're from some local farm, I'm not sure which one that lady was talking about, she was kind of, all over the place." Y/n laughed

"I think I know what you're talking about, my dad gets them all the time because he knows the owners and he won't fully admit it but, he loves them." Sarah laughed before she continued "He buys them under the guise that they're for me but I swear I don't go through them that fast by myself."

Y/n glanced up at the time, it was already five o'clock. "Are you hungry for some actual food?" She asked as Sarah closed the strawberry container

"You don't have to feed me, I can eat when my dad gets home."

"Don't worry about it, I'm not technically feeding you." Y/n smiled as she picked up the phone again "The pizza place up the road is."

"My uncle would love you." Sarah laughed

After Sarah finally gave in to being fed, Y/n called in the order, it would be about forty-something minutes before it got there.

"So where are you from? You don't have a Texan accent." Sarah inquired

"Well I was born in Florida but I moved around so much that the only place I stayed the longest was most recently, which was in Louisiana." Y/n explained

"Oh." Sarah nodded "I've never been there."

as the two girls continued talking, they learned more and more about eachother, soon enough the pizza arrived, but their conversation continued even while they ate.

"So what did you do to get this house?" Sarah asked "It's been empty for years, some old lady used to live here but I was little, I don't remember her much." She explained

"This was my grandma's house, she was put into a nursing home when I was seventeen." She explained "She died last year and she left me everything."

"Why?"

"My grandma and my dad didn't have the best relationship, I haven't seen her since I graduated highschool so I think it was the last thing she could do to spite him before she passed." Y/n shook her head "She was a character."

"You should ask my dad about her, I'm sure he remembers her more than I do." Sarah suggested

"Speaking of," Y/n started as she checked time, which had flown by incredibly fast, because it was now eight-thirty "Your dad will probably be here soon."

"He's probably gonna be late." Sarah commented "Sorry about this."

"Even if he is late, it's fine, I'm gonna have to get used to being around you anyways, right?" Y/n suggested "I am going to be your teacher, after all."

Sarah nodded, smiling softly.

"You're going to be so sick of me." Y/n smiled

Sarah shook her head "I don't think so, you're actually-"

Sarah was cut off by the doorbell ringing

"Sounds like your dad's here, go get your bag." Y/n said as she stood up from the couch, followed by Sarah

Y/n went to open the door while Sarah went back to the kitchen to get her bag.

Y/n used the peephole to see if it was him, and it was, he had his arms crossed against his chest as his eyes looked around the porch of the house.

Y/n opened the door and the crease between his eyebrows disappeared as he laid his eyes on her for the first time.

"Hi." She smiled, breaking the silence

Joel cleared his throat and uncrossed his arms, letting them fall to his side. "Uh, Hi."

The moment was cut short by Sarah coming up from behind Y/n. "She behaved?"

"Of course, I did." Sarah smiled, "It was nice to get to know you, neighbor."

Y/n smiled as Sarah passed her.

"Uh- Thank you, Y/n." Joel nodded as he began to follow his daughter "You have a goodnight now, Ma'am."

The "ma'am" caught Y/n off guard as she waved them off, mumbling to herself how it made her feel old as she closed the door.

"You know if you would have stopped drooling for five seconds you could've had an actual conversation with her." Sarah laughed as she elbowed her father, lightly.

"I was not drooling." Joel rolled his eyes, while fishing for his keys out ofbhis pocket

"Really? Oh what is that?" Sarah asked, pointing to his chin "What's that?"

Joel's hand immediately shot up to his chin "What is what?" He asked as he began to wipe around, making Sarah laugh harder

Joel's frantic look dropped, "You suck." He grumbled, while opening to door dramatically

"Too bad you love me so much." She smiled

"Yeah, too bad punk. You hungry?" He asked as he began to walk in to the kitchen

"No Y/n fed me." Sarah shrugged as she set her bag down by the couch

"She did? What'd y'all have?" He asked

"Yep. Pizza, she doesn't like anything but cheese either so I'm not weird." Sarah explained

"I guess that just makes you both weird." He teased

"You know, she's actually really cool." Sarah said as she joined him in the kitchen

"She seems like it." He agreed as he looked back at her

"She was talking about starting a new job tomorrow and she seemed really excited." Sarah said

"She say where?" Joel asked

"No, she didn't say and I didn't ask." She shrugged

"Well we all know how nosey you are, figured you got this woman to spill her whole life." Joel commented, now continuing to focus on the sandwich he was making

Sarah gave a false look of offence "It's not my fault I'm easy to talk to." She smiled, putting her hands up in false surrender

Joel laughed as he cut the sandwich down the middle.

The rest of the night went smoothly, as it usually did. Other than the small argument about what to watch, as usual, the father and daughter sat together on the couch, watching what Sarah picked, because she always wins that argument.

"You workin' late tomorrow?" Sarah asked

"No. Tommy said we're gonna go in earlier and get be done at six, which means you have to get up earlier to get on the bus." Joel explained as he rubbed his eyes

"Well then I guess that means I need to go to bed, huh?" Sarah asked, knowing the answer

"Means we both do." He corrected "Go on, I'll see you in the mornin'." He added, kissing her on the forehead

"Night dad." She smiled as she walked off

"Night punk."

-

Hi!!

So a couple things,

imagine sarah from the show with the accent that she has in the game.

This takes place about a year and a half before the whole outbreak, which I'm still not sure if I'm going to write that in to change it up, or keep it the same. However, most of the series is planned already and this is JUST the first chapter.

The whole thing isn't going to completely surround Joel. It's going to go in depth of Y/n and Sarah's relationship, along with Tommy and Y/n, of course.

Anyways, I hope you liked this

xx, maryah

#maryahsbubblebaththots #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #tommy miller #sarah miller #sarah tlou #tommy tlou #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel tlou #the last of us #pedro pascal #slutsforpedropascalteam.

[iam93percentstardust]

Pop Star Fics

In honor of the Eras Tour movie finally being complete on streaming, here's a rec list of (mostly) Stevetony pop star and pop star-adjacent fics 💚💛💜❤️🩵🖤🩷🩶🤎💙🤍 Anyway, we don't have enough of these in this fandom so I'm hereby declaring that we should all write more of them (I'm doing my part; I'm almost done with the Fearless era for This Life Is Sweeter Than Fiction)

Written by Others

One Step Closer by scottxlogan (E) Tony Stark was pushed into popstar fame by his ambitious father early on, but over the span of more than two decades Tony has seen the highs and lows of stardom hitting rock bottom in more ways than one. Through it all there was always one person that Tony felt was his saving grace. Steve Rogers was always the one that got away and no matter how many times they tried to cross that line into love they couldn't quite get there. As Tony's once close friend and brief roommate, Steve turned Tony's world around in all the right ways until fate intervened and they were pulled in separate directions. Now fresh out of rehab on his 45th birthday and looking to keep from making the same mistakes, Tony reflects on his past and follows his heart to new beginnings hoping that it's not too late to find his way back to Steve in his hopes for a second chance. -I love that this Tony is closer to his canon age. It's a look at the pop star life from the other side once you're not the shiniest, brightest thing on the block anymore. The smut is great, the romance is lovely, and the ending is delightful ❤️

Baby, Just Say Yes by betheflame (M) In a world where Tony's life looks a lot like Taylor Swift's, Steve realizes there always more to omegas than meets the eye. -Everything flame writes is always amazing, even the things I never in a million years thought I would like, but this is just so lovely. It's soft and sweet, and I love the take on second gender dynamics that flame explores 💛

at his side by areiton (M) He meets Steve on a Sunday, wearing his old Eagles jersey and shorts so short his Mama fusses at him, and he grins, tousled curls and a devil may care grin, bare-faced and bare foot. “Hi,” he says, and then, like an introduction is necessary, like the whole world isn’t learning his name, he adds, “I’m Tony.” -I love bodyguard AUs so much, and arei absolutely delivers with this one. Top-notch pining, great use of the non-linear narrative (which arei is always fantastic at, in my opinion), and I love how the eras were changed to fit this story 💙

Written by Me

This Life is Sweeter Than Fiction (series) A series of interconnected fics, following Tony Stark from his time as a country singer to the world's biggest pop star. Loosely inspired by Taylor Swift. -I feel weird hyping up my own fics, but if you're willing to follow me as I explore multiple relationships, second gender dynamics, and reinterpret the fandom's hatred for Tony after Civil War through the lens of the Reputation era, I feel like you'd really like this series. Like I said, I'm almost done writing the Fearless era, so that'll be coming in the next few weeks 💚

False God (E) The first time Steve meets him, Gillian has all sixteen dancers sitting in a circle on the floor of the rehearsal studio, where she makes them go around the room and introduce themselves. Tony is the youngest of them at nineteen, has two cats currently in his sister’s custody, and got his start in ballet before being so inspired by the 1989 tour that he cross trained just in the hopes that one day he could dance with Sharon. Steve had made a note of it in the way that he makes a note of everyone he works with, felt a little old because he had been a dancer on the 1989 tour and now this baby is saying he was inspired by them, and then gotten distracted by the next girl. -In which neither of them is the pop star! They're backup dancers for pop star Sharon instead, which I think is very fun of me 🩷

When Emma Falls in Love (G) “Nice?” Kamala exclaims. “It’s way past nice! It’s the cutest thing ever because his bracelet had his phone number on it! He was hoping to ask you out!” Tony blinks. Steve Rogers, All-American good boy and quarterback extraordinaire, wants to throw his hat in the ring? He wouldn’t be the first person to toss his name out there, but most of them have just tried to DM him or tag him in their posts. No one’s shown the kind of thought and effort that Steve apparently put into his declaration. It’s a level of understanding and appreciation of who Tony is and everything he’s cultivated in his career that no one else has put in. It is, to use Kamala’s word, cute. -In your life, you'll do things greater than dating the boy on the football team... or maybe not? Anyway, this is just a very fluffy romance with instantly smitten Steve and Tony 💜

Glitch (T) “Ms. Potts, my name is Steve Rogers, and I’m Justin Hammer’s roommate," Steve says. “Oh, what does that asshole want now?” she asks. “I don’t think he wants anything—except to make a quick buck and ruin Mr. Stark’s reputation.” -This is a pop star AU in the loosest definition of the word. Tony is a pop star but he doesn't get to do anything pop starry things in this AU. It's mostly about Steve, but if you like throwing popcorn at the screen whenever Justin Hammer shows up, people getting their comeuppance, and Steve being the standup guy he is, then this is the fic for you 🖤

Death by a Thousand Cuts (T) “Tony?” Pepper asks, and he can tell just by the look on her face that whatever she has to tell him, it isn’t good. “What?” he asks. She looks uncharacteristically hesitant. Pepper isn’t supposed to be hesitant. She’s supposed to be barge-in, guns-blazing, unapologetically confident. “The news leaked,” she says eventually. -One of my favorite tropes, breaking up and making up! Idk I just really like writing stories where neither of them did anything wrong, they just couldn't work things out in those circumstances, but turns out being apart is even worse 🩶

Aaaaand a bonus winteriron fic for you!

Kissed by a Muse (E) Two years ago, Bucky returned home from the war, disillusioned, injured, and angry. Two months ago, he started working at Rogers Records, recording other bands when all he wants is for his band to be the one performing. Two minutes ago, he ran into a mysterious stranger at the grocery store who argued with him over the last box of Eggos, kissed him, and ran off with the waffles. And now he can't stop thinking about him. Bucky sees him everywhere: on the album cover he's recording, walking by his sound booth. And then, as he's staying late at work one night, he hears someone singing down the hall. But that can't be right - because that's his song, one that he's never performed for anyone. He isn't really surprised though to find that it's the stranger who kissed him in the grocery store that night. Only someone who can seemingly appear and disappear like this stranger can could possibly be singing a song he's never sung for anyone. The stranger offers him a chance: a chance to get his life back on track, to perform for the owner of the biggest record company in the world, a chance to get his band back and make it big. With an offer like that, how could Bucky refuse? -If you're familiar with the 1980s film Xanadu with Olivia Newton John, Gene Kelly, and that guy from The Warriors, this is that but with Bucky and Tony being, well, Bucky and Tony 🤎

#fic recs #long post

[real-jane]

everything, everything

[steve rogers x female reader]

summary: steve and his partner are undercover on assignment, hiding out as husband and wife. the line between reality and fiction is too thin, and steve can't take much more.

warnings: steve is v dumb, pining/longing/etc, smut, canon level violence, smut, and also some smut is in it.

a/n: thank you to @sanguineterrain for the original prompt: "How about a Steve x reader who have to go undercover as a married couple and oh NO, they're pining for each other and don't know it! Whatever shall they do?! 😳😏"

enjoy!

--

He’s too stunned to move when the doorbell rings, so she slips between Steve and the counter with pink-stung lips and hastens to answer it. All the air in the room rushes out with her.

She’s not supposed to kiss me when nobody is around to see her do it.

Three weeks. It’s only been three agonizing weeks. When did the fiction bleed into reality? When did his hands start aching to reach for her? 

‘You get along so well already,’ Bucky had said, ‘it will be nice to be undercover with someone who doesn’t get on your nerves.’ Except… Steve has never had less clarity in his entire life, especially not now, after she kissed the daylights out of him.

The smoke detector is his only saving grace. The pancakes he got up early to make for breakfast are charred beyond recognition, and he throws open the window to let out the smoke… and whatever hot air is keeping his brain from actually processing.

“Everything okay, baby?” she calls from the front room. Steve clenches his jaw.

“Wouldn’t you know it–I burned breakfast,” he replies, in as chipper a tone as he can manage.

“That’s why my husband doesn’t go anywhere near the kitchen. I’m surprised you let him try, Betsy.” Ugh. Sharon. Her husband is on a permanent business trip to live with his other family, a fact that SHIELD had uncovered in the process of vetting the neighborhood. Wayne Carter is also a very good cook. Sharon Carter puts on a haughty face for a woman who hasn’t seen her husband in nine months. Betsy… the alias his partner wears like the Southern Belle she most certainly isn't… she hates Sharon, but she’s a good actress.

“Oh, Steve’s a wonderful cook! But I was distracting him.” 

His ‘wife’s’ little giggle is enough to make Steve snap the spatula in half. He stares at the bisected plastic in shock.

“Bex, what do you say I take you out for breakfast?” Steve rubs his jaw and gives up on the pan, which is entirely unsalvageable. “Mimosas and crepes, yeah?”

“Steven Rogers, you’re gonna spoil me rotten.”

“Impossible.” 

Steve can’t stop the panic rising in his chest. It isn’t supposed to be like this. She’s a fantastic agent, and that’s all. God–he wants to kiss her until she can’t pretend anymore. He needs to have the upper hand, to retain just one ounce of professionalism as Captain fucking America. People know who he is. He’s on assignment. They aren’t married for real. 

And yet.

Realization washes over him and he leans against the counter in despair. 

Every evening, when she bids him ‘goodnight’, he hopes that she skips past the first bedroom and finds her way to his. Cooking for her? His favorite part of every day. He’s googled so many recipes that the app suggests fancy breakfast food. He wears that one blue shirt as often as he can because she smiled the first time he did.

Coming ‘home’ is his only source of comfort, because she is always standing on the porch… waiting. Sometimes a neighbor is talking with her; she’s so kind that it has been easy ingratiating themselves into the neighborhood. Nine times out of ten, she’s got a glass of lemonade in hand, slick with condensation, waiting for him. It’s the weekends that are most torturous, when he has no reason to be out of her presence. Like this particular Saturday morning.

It’s very easy to forget why they’re there. They’re so close to uncovering the ring–she fills him in on the dirt she’s dug up while playing cards, or gardening, or just gossiping with the ladies each day. The women on this street tell her things that he’s struggled to weasel out of hardened criminals. Steve is fairly certain he’s going to burst into flames before they succeed in this assignment. He’s ashamed of himself. She doesn’t deserve some sicko fixating on her, especially not her partner. He’s a public figure, for Christ’s sake! He’s better than this.

Her hand presses against the small of his back. Steve starts and wheels on her. She bites back a smile at the sight of him, and raises a hand to his cheek. 

“You look like you’ve been sweeping the chimney,” she laughs.

He steps away, out of her grasp. “I’ll just get cleaned up, if you wanna go.”

“Oh. You really wanna go out for breakfast?” The surprise in her voice stabs him square in the chest.

“Why not?” he shrugs. “I destroyed the good pan anyway.”

“Are you okay?”

No. Absolutely not, under no circumstances. “What did Sharon want?” He still hasn’t looked her in the eye.

“She went through Zemo’s garbage,” she says, as if she’s impressed by Sharon’s gall. “She found like twenty packs of cold medicine.”

His head snaps up. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. She’s got the bags in her garage, she texted me a picture, too. Look.” She holds up her cell phone and sure enough, a black trash bag filled with boxes of off-brand medicine fills the screen. “This is what we’ve been waiting for, Steve.”

“Oh my god…” he can’t help but laugh in astonishment. “This is reason enough for a warrant.”

“I already sent Fury the photo. Can you believe it?”

He wants so badly to pull her into his arms and hold on for dear life. Because if they’ve truly uncovered the lynch pin of the whole organization, then their days playing house are numbered. Worse than loving her is the thought of no longer getting to pretend, and hang all his hopes on precious public displays of affection. You two look so in love, one of the neighbors had said during their welcome block party. Steve had his arm wrapped around her shoulders then, because being the facsimile of a married couple was still too new to know how to comfortably interact in a way that seemed real. She lets herself be kissed by him with a sweet smile on her face, now. Her fingers always entwine with his, especially when they’re over at someone else’s house. 

For one brief second, Steve considers how easy it would be to steal the bags from Sharon’s garage and destroy the evidence… but what would his partner think of him if she found out what he had done? Maybe that was the best way to push away these embarrassing feelings–push her away. Make them strangers, again.

“Steve–hey!” She snaps in front of his face. “What’s wrong with you?”

He shakes his head, but the heat which floods his cheeks is mortifying. “I slept weird. Not fully awake yet.”

She frowns. “Why don’t you go lay down? I’ll order breakfast in, and we can wait for Fury’s directive.”

“I don’t need to lay down,” he says quickly. “I’m fine.”

“You keep zoning out–”

“I said I’m fine, so I’m fine.”

“...why are you being like this?” She crosses her arms, leaning against the counter. “You’re pissy.”

“Can you just leave it alone?” he sighs.

“We’re in deep cover and you want me to ignore it? I’m gonna nag you until you communicate, Rogers–”

“You’re not entitled to every little thought in my head, alright?” Steve throws his hands up in the air. “This is a sham marriage, remember? Stop pushing me and accept that I don’t want to talk, I’m fine.”

She opens her mouth to press the matter, but thinks better of it. She looks away and nods, but she breathes in raggedly. “Well fuck me, I guess. Fuck my feelings. Crepes?” 

Steve’s heart plummets through the tile floor as she turns away to leave the kitchen. He lunges before he can stop himself and grasps her wrist, staying her exit. Words clog his throat. She waits with one eyebrow raised, but when he can’t make the apology come, she rips her hand from his. Steve is left with the horrible feeling that he has ruined everything good between them… the real rapport they’ve built sharing an assignment, and the fake one which allows her to touch him freely where anyone can see.

And kiss him where they can’t.

He waits for her on the front porch in blue, having scrubbed the pancake ash from his face. She emerges from the house in a sundress. The light pink one which always robs him of sanity. For a moment her face is stony, but then her expression lightens to exuberance and she waves–beyond Steve, to the passing neighbor on the sidewalk.

“Hi Joe!”

“Hiya, Rogerses! Where ya off to on this fine morning?” The old man braces himself on their little gate.

Five soft fingers curl around Steve’s elbow and he remembers that he’s supposed to be helplessly in love with this woman. Well… no acting required, he thinks with a wince. He covers her hand with his.

“Somebody destroyed breakfast,” Steve says, pointing his thumb at himself, “so he’s gonna treat his wife to some French cuisine.”

“Good on you, boy. Betsy deserves the best.”

“That she does,” Steve says, a hair too earnestly.

“Talking about me like I’m not even here!” She giggles. “Joe, do you still need Steve’s help moving that dresser?”

Steve tightens his hand over hers. They’ve talked time and again about how Joe is capable of stealing one’s entire day, and how frustrating it is when he’s trying to keep tabs on Joe’s neighbor to have a two-hour conversation about hydrangeas–

“If he’s offering!” Joe smiles expectantly at Steve, who bobs his head.

“I could do that for ya. How’s this afternoon?”

“You know where to find me!” Joe salutes and totters back down the street towards his small bungalow. 

Once they are seated inside Steve’s car, shielded by darkly tinted windows, he dares to study her. She ignores him, typing away on her phone. “What was that?” he asks lowly.

“You’ve been trying to find a reason to case his house,” she says, not looking up. “I got you an in.”

He clears his throat. “Right. Good idea.”

“You’re not the only influential Rogers in the neighborhood.”

Steve sighs. “‘M sorry–”

“It’s forgotten.” Her phone rings in her hand and she answers immediately. “Hello? No, unsubstantiated for now but Steve is going into Joe O’Leary’s later today while I pop over to Sharon’s. No, he’s just the only house we haven’t found a reason to go inside. It was Steve’s idea, actually.”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. It absolutely was not, and if he’s honest with himself, he can’t quite figure out which part of this assignment he’s actually contributed to. She has all of the good ideas, she thinks of things he never would’ve dreamt of. 

“--Yeah. Zemo is hunting this weekend, apparently. We won’t. Nick–that was one time!” she huffs. “I have the scar. We won’t go to his house until you’ve got the warrant. Why does every man around me insist on being so damn stubborn? No–god, I forget you have us triangulated at all times. We’re headed out for breakfast. I burned the pancakes, so…” She glances at Steve and shakes her head. “No, I copy. We’ll stay put. I’ll tell him.”

She hangs up and her head falls back against the seat. “He wants us to stay in place, and wait until he gives the okay to check out Joe and Sharon’s.”

“We already told both of them we’re going out… won’t that look suspicious?”

“I dunno… drive to the gas station. I’ll buy you some shitty coffee. At least our car will have left the driveway.”

“I’m buyin’,” Steve says, starting the car. “Last time I checked, you’re not the one who charred the pancakes.”

“It was still my fault.”

“You can buy me a moon pie, for my trouble.”

“I’ll buy you a whole box.” He can’t help the way his mouth turns up at one side, and when he looks at her, she’s smiling sadly. “I don’t like it when we’re at odds.”

Steve shakes his head. “No.”

“Partners?” She holds out her hand, but before he takes it…

“Why’d you do it?” His voice is soft, pleading. She shrugs.

“I wanted to. Don’t you ever do things, just because you want to?”

“Um. No, I don’t have that luxury.”

“I forgot who I’m talking to.” Her chin dips bashfully. “Just forget it happened, okay? We kiss in front of other people all the time, it’s a habit.”

“...which you wanted to do.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I haven’t overanalyzed it. Like you are doing right now.” She wiggles her fingers and Steve laces his in. “Partners. Do you wanna tell me what was going on with you?”

“Well… I suppose I was thinking about all this being done. It’s, uh. Hard to tell sometimes what’s part of the cover, and–”

“What’s real,” she finishes. “Maybe the truth is somewhere in the middle. We don’t have to answer that today.”

“I like holding your hand,” he admits. “I–shit, sweetheart, I-I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Yeah. But I don’t have enough caffeine in me for that conversation,” he says, squeezing her hand.

“You can do it back, if you want. You keep looking at my lips. It’s okay if you want to, Steve.”

“I don’t want to ruin it,” he murmurs.

“Only way to do that is to shut me out.”

He studies her neatly manicured nails. “I want to. So bad.”

“But?”

“I don’t know. Can’t think straight as it is. What’s it gonna do to me–”

“Hush.” She holds their clasped hands to her lips. “It’s okay.”

“No–it isn’t.” He squeezes. “It’s unprofessional.”

“If you think I haven’t spent the last three weeks relishing the fact that I get to spend every evening watching trash tv with you, staring at your ass, and listening to you laugh… fuck professional, Steve. I didn’t mean for it to happen, okay? You caught me off guard with your sweetness. I knew I was in trouble the first time you kissed me.”

“But this is gonna end…”

“It doesn’t have to. I–” She stops to cup his cheek and brush her thumb over his jaw in reassurance. “I don’t wanna go a single day without kissing you. I don’t care if it started because we’re pretending.”

“It’s never been pretend for me,” he breathes. 

She moves first, because she knows that he can’t do it without real permission, where there’s no question why it’s happening. He moans against her mouth; it’s always felt like his lips were meant for hers, but with nobody watching… It's a gift. She is precious to him. He cradles her face to say as much, without putting voice to it. Kissing her this way strips him of all ceremony. He’s just a city boy with a crush on a beautiful girl, who kisses like a dream. It’s freeing. If anyone saw them making out in the driveway, what would it give away? Nothing which doesn’t show on his face every time he looks at her. Because Steve can’t pretend like she isn’t the center of his world. Not when he has permission to kiss her in private.

His tenuous control snaps.

She keens as his lips traverse her jaw to nip at the tender skin below her ear. “Been holding out on me, Rogers.” He sucks a mark, blooming a ruddy bruise on her throat. Then, he lavs that spot, pulling more heavenly sounds from her lips. “Fuck.”

“I think about that, too,” he whispers against her skin. “But I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

“We wouldn’t be the first partners to do it.”

“Remember when we caught Bucky and Nat after Bulgaria?” Steve eases the strap of her dress off the curve of her shoulder.

“God,” she sighs, tugging on his hair so he’ll find her mouth again. She catches his bottom lip. “You wouldn’t look at me.”

He blinks at her through heavy eyelids. “I was thinking about you.”

“You wanna fuck me in a bunk on the quinjet?” she scoffs. Her fingers card through his hair.

“Anywhere. Have forever. Buck knows. ‘S why he suggested you for this.”

She smiles against his mouth. “Remind me to send him a thank you card.”

“Can I touch you?”

“In the driveway?” she gasps, even as she guides his hand towards the hem of her dress.

“Windows are too dark to see in.”

“You’re kinker than I thought–fuck.”

He traces the pads of his fingers over her soft skin. Steve bites his lip, watching her eyes flutter as his hand gets closer to touching her where he wants to, most. “Think I’m vanilla, agent?”

“That is your favorite ice cream flavor.”

Steve stops for a second and squeezes her thigh in affection. He presses a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. She chases her lips after his, and pauses just a breath from his face. They smile at each other, drunk on uncorked arousal. 

“Vanilla,” he whispers, tracing the hem of her panties, “is a complex flavor. Goes with everything. Chocolate. Cherries…” Steve dips his fingers beneath the silky fabric. She cants her hips to give him better access. He finds the little bud at her apex, worrying the bundle of nerves enough to make her moan.

“Exhibitionism,” she pants.

“In small quantities,” he chuckles. “Gimme your lips, sweets.”

She does so like a woman starved, but her head falls back as he sinks one finger into her heat. “Steven.”

“‘M here.”

“So good.” She rolls her hips to meet his hand. He thumbs her clit with every stroke. “Had a dream–mmph. You fingered me at a barbeque.”

“I’d do it. Under the table?”

“Mm. No. In the pool.”

“Our pool, sweetheart?” Steve works a second finger with the first easily. She’s drenched, she’s gorgeous. 

She nods. “Yeah. But I couldn’t make a face because everybody was around.”

“What, then?” Steve feels her squeezing him tight. She’s close. He’s never wanted anything more in his life than to make her come. He doesn’t care how much work it takes to clean the seat afterwards. He’ll do it with a smile, as long as she comes.

“You made me orgasm in front of the whole neighborhood. Then you got in the hot tub and you made me sit on your dick.”

“Were you keeping me hard?” He tugs the cups of her dress down with his free hand and bears her breasts. “Christ. You’re so beautiful.”

“Nobody knew, and the bubbles covered us,” she sighs. “Right there, right–oh fuck. What about you?”

Steve groans as her hand finds his straining dick over the top of his jeans. “I’m gonna bust my zipper the second you come.”

“Wanna feel you. Please.”

He nods his consent, but not before flickering his tongue against her nipple. She stays his hand by turning her nails into the skin at his wrist, and forces him to lean his seat back so she can unbutton his pants, but she doesn’t get very far–

The back window of the vehicle shatters. Steve throws himself over her, peering above her headrest. She groans.

“I was so close,” she wheezes. 

“Stay down, sweetheart.” Steve kisses her cheek and then throws the car into reverse, turning the wheel like a madman to dodge their attacker… Sharon. Standing on her front porch with a rifle. She raises the gun to take another shot, now that she has her sights on him. 

“Roll down your window, baby!” 

Steve doesn’t hesitate. His partner yanks the top of her dress up, lays half-way across his lap, and fires her own weapon (pulled from god-knows-where), catching their attacker in the shoulder. Sharon drops her rifle, but the gun discharges, destroying one of Steve’s tires with an explosive POP! The car drops heavily towards the front wheel well. Sharon staggers to retrieve her gun. After one more precise shot, she falls. Steve takes the gun from his partner when it is offered. She retrieves his pistol from the glove compartment, and they each get out of the car warily.

“Do you wanna trade?” Steve calls.

“You think I can’t shoot with your gun?” Her voice is sweet and teasing.

“I said no such thing. Is she dead?” They flank the unconscious woman… sure enough, she’s down for good, with one bullet right between the eyes. Steve exchanges a look of shock with his partner.

“Yes. Must’ve been desperate to risk taking us out like this. I’d say we found the rat,” she says. 

“I guess so.”

“She has the shittiest timing.” She grins at him, which makes Steve’s ears turn red. She retrieves her phone from the car and makes a call. 

Steve keeps his weapon at the ready. Several of the neighbors peer out their front windows in concern, but none are stupid enough to come out and investigate the ruckus. He attempts to stand between the body and the street, at least to obscure the pooling blood below Sharon’s head. 

It doesn't take ten minutes for a dozen black SUV’s to come squealing down the sleepy street. By the time they take over the block, Steve and his partner are leaning against his car, glancing at each other with small smiles. They’ve collected themselves somewhat; he made sure there was no visible sign that she’d been just moments from an orgasm when they were shot at (other than the hickey, which he hopes nobody notices), and they attempt to look concerned that their attacker wasn’t someone they expected. But it’s especially hard for Steve to be stoic, because he knows how it feels to touch her. He settles for looking smug. He is, but who’s to say why?

Bucky accompanies the agents who emerge from the trucks, as does Fury. “Cap. Agent.”

“Director,” she acknowledges. “Sergeant.” Bucky wrinkles his nose at her.

“Walk me through what happened.” She steps forward with Fury and walks him towards the body, while Bucky hangs back with Steve. Barnes leans over and whispers.

“Your fly’s undone.”

Steve sighs. “Shit. Why are you staring at my crotch, huh?” He fixes the aforementioned zipper as discreetly as possible.

“Old habits die hard.” Bucky folds his arms and leans against the car.

“What would Natasha say to that?”

“...you think she doesn’t stare at your crotch, punk?”

“You two are nightmares.” Steve can’t help but chuckle, despite himself. “Carter annoyed the hell outta me, but I didn’t think she was involved.”

“You trying to change the subject?”

“Not succeeding, apparently.” 

Just then, his partner looks up at him, gesturing towards him and then down the street, which is swarming with agents in black suits. 

“Cool it with the puppy dog eyes,” Bucky murmurs.

Steve glares at him. “Shut up. That’s just how my face looks.”

“Not when you look at me,” Bucky says, elbowing him in the side. “Did you tell her?”

Steve’s eyes dart away, and he can’t help but smile. He twists his mouth to keep from breaking out into a full smile.

“Thank God,” Bucky says.

“Rogers!” Fury waves him over. Steve strides towards the director with his hands in his pockets. “I think your partner is a little shell shocked. Why don’t you take her to the house? I’ll catch up with you in a bit. I think it’s going to take a few hours for us to do a preliminary search of Carter’s.”

Steve glances at his partner, who has her hands clasped at her waist, twisting her fingers. She indeed looks quite shocked, eyes wide and unblinking as she stares up at him. “Yes sir.”

“I’m glad you two didn’t do anything hasty and stayed put. This could’ve gone a whole lot worse.” 

Steve nods. He manages the world’s most convincing performance of concern, wrapping his arm around his partner’s shoulders. She leans into his side, letting him guide her across the street to the house with ‘Rogers’ painted on the mailbox. He doesn’t dare look at Bucky, nor does he want to risk saying anything until they’re safely concealed from the rest of the world. But the moment they’re inside, he presses her back against the front door. She smiles softly.

“Did that get your blood going?” she asks. “Getting shot at with your fingers inside me.”

He huffs. “Your mouth, I swear.”

“What’re you gonna do about it?”

“Do you want this?” He asks, working his knee between hers until she has to stand on her tip-toes. She nods breathlessly. “Out loud, or I stop.”

“I’ve heard you come,” she laughs. “In the shower. When you think you’re being quiet. I talk myself out of joining you every time, but I wanna see your face when you have an orgasm. I think you’ll be the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Steve shivers. “Pretty, huh?” He lowers his mouth slowly to hers, but stops as she gasps. His hands find the globes of her ass, inching under the panties he’s going to destroy. He watches her eyes dilate with arousal. She smirks.

“You’re a pretty man, Rogers. ‘S why I married you.”

Steve gapes at her for just a minute. He shakes his head in disbelief, shrugging off the euphoria which rises in him at the thought of this woman truly being everything. Her fingers creep to his jaw.

“What?”

He sighs. “That’s all I want. To have this. All the time.”

“A wife, baby?”

“And babies, sweetheart.”

“You told Joe you wanted three… you were being serious.”

“I was.” His eyes flick back and forth to study her irises. They’re glassy. 

“You’d want that with… me?”

“How long have you known me?” He asks, kissing her forehead. 

Her hands wrap behind his head, stroking his nape. “That’s a big step. We’re not even together–”

“I’ve been telling anyone in a ten mile radius that you’re my wife for three straight weeks, and nothing has ever felt more right.” Steve levels his eyes with hers. “I want as much as you’re willing to give me.”

Her eyes crinkle as she smiles. “God. You take a girl’s breath away. I… I don’t know if I want kids, Steve–”

“But you want me.”

“Yes,” she sighs. 

“Then I don’t care. You can think about it.”

“What if the answer is ‘no’? Could you be content with only me?”

“Only–sweetheart. You are everything.” Steve kisses her eyelids as they shut in relief. “We could always have dogs.”

She laughs in surprise, and it’s his favorite sound in the whole world. “Why don’t we start from the beginning, and see where we end up?”

“Where’s that?” He noses her cheek. 

“Give each other orgasms for the first time. I mean, if I’m gonna think about having babies, don’t you think I should know how your dick feels?”

“You make a very good point,” he says with mock seriousness, tapping his chin. “In the spirit of investigation.”

“To make a truly informed decision.”

“Right… if we do this, we’re gonna have to tell Fury.”

She looks at him guiltily. “He… knows. I sorta forgot that the car is bugged.”

Steve freezes with wide eyes. “Shit.”

“...Yeah.”

“Well…”

“We have no reason to hide it, now.” She finds the hem of the shirt she likes so much and tickles her nails across his abdomen. “Besides, I gotta admit that I kinda found it, I dunno… hot? That people heard us.”

Steve locks the front door over her shoulder and walks backwards, tugging her towards the stairs. He spins her so her heels catch on the step, forcing her to sit down abruptly. Steve follows, latching his lips over hers hungrily. He probably should feel embarrassed, but how can he when this beautiful woman wants him? No man in his right mind would be ashamed of her. 

He rends the gusset of her panties. For such a talkative person, she sure has nothing to say when his fingers find her clit again. Just incoherent moans. Steve has three fingers inside her by the time she comes, walls fluttering around his thrusting hand. Her head falls back in ecstasy as she soaks his fingers. He wastes no time working his pants down enough to free his dick; her hands urge his shirt off so she can run the tips of her nails down his chest, flicking against his nipples and making him buck. She’s bringing kinks out in him he didn’t even know he had. 

She wraps one hand around him, making his head fall forward against her collar. He nips at her tendon in retaliation. She guides him until his dick is tucked between her folds, and rolls her hips to take him in. Steve obliges. He sinks into her fully, and groans.

“Fucking hell,” she breathes. 

“You’re tight, sweets.” He teases the seam of her lips with his tongue, inviting her to lose herself completely. She’s still sensitive from her first orgasm, shivering when he brushes her clit, so Steve stays still. Buried deep in the woman of his dreams.

“Was it like this, in your dream?” he asks, stroking her cheek softly. She smiles blissfully.

“No. This is better than anything my brain made up. You gotta move.”

“What if I didn’t? And I made you sit with my dick inside you all day long.” Steve shimmies her dress up her torso until she arches her back enough to let him pull it over her head. But he fists the fabric at her wrists, capturing her hands so she can’t touch him. She whines.

“Jesus. Who knew you were so controlling?” Her inner muscles contract and he huffs.

“If I thought I could control you for one second, you’d know it by now,” he says, rolling his hips. “But you’re the one who’s got me wrapped around your finger.”

“Yeah?” she gasps. “You’ve got me tied up.”

“You don’t need your hands to have me right where you want me, sweetheart, and you know it.”

She kisses him hard. “Fuck me. So I have bruises from these stairs.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He snaps his hips forward to do just that, and he’s in heaven. He’s got little experience compared to some of the agents he hears bragging about their trysts in the gym, but by god, he’s never fucked a woman like this. Especially not someone he loves. His knees burn from the carpet, and his boots attempt to slide off his bracing step–hell, his pants aren’t even to his knees, but he fucks her like a desperate man, because that’s what he is. He wants her to come again, more than anything. Hard. Who cares if he doesn’t, as long as she finds pleasure?

Her hands slip free of their restraints easily, and she grasps his back for dear life. He’ll feel the marks from her nails in the shower, he’s sure of it. Steve doesn’t realize his eyes are closed until she gasps. His eyes snap open–she’s arching up, chasing her release. He reaches between their bodies to find her clit and rolls it as he thrusts. It’s enough to send her over the edge. She cries out, and it’s all he can do not to come at the sight of her. But he thrusts through her orgasm until she’s whining with sensitivity. She grips his ass.

“Baby–please. It hurts.” 

Steve braces himself on his elbows and freezes, kissing her in apology. “Mmm. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You okay?” She nods, kissing him back slowly. 

“You need to come.”

“I’m okay.”

“No!” She protests. “I want you to. I have to see it. Please–pull out, I’ll help you.” 

The moment he rises up, she’s reaching for him… he can’t think with the way her fingers wrap around him, tugging him ever closer towards his own orgasm. He’s kneeling beside her on the stairs, watching her in rapt awe. She worships him, but she’s too gentle. He tightens her fingers with his to show her that she doesn’t need to be so careful with him. She’s a fast learner. She pumps him with as much care as he showed her, her eyes fixed to his face to catch every little expression of pleasure. When he’s close, he falls down onto his elbow, right at her side. She smiles, and he can’t help but smile back because god, he loves her. She’s everything. He’s never felt so good. He’s soaring. She coaxes him through his orgasm, painting her belly with his come. He turns his teeth into her shoulder to keep from bellowing, which makes her wince and laugh all at once. Then, he lets himself fall fully onto the stairs beside her, so they’re both staring up at the ceiling in awe. 

He laughs. 

“Yeah… you’re pretty, alright,” she breathes.

“I should’ve gotten you to bed.” He looks over at her. A faint sheen of sweat makes her glow like a goddess, and she shakes her head.

“I think this was as far as we were gonna make it.” She raises her hand to stroke his cheek but she’s shaking a little. Steve takes her hand and kisses it.

“What’s the verdict?” he whispers.

She giggles. “More research required.”

“Do you think the house is bugged?”

“...Not anymore.”

He can’t help but laugh at the innocent smile on her face. “Shit, sweets. You made me hungry. I could really go for those moon pies right about now.”

She beckons him to meet her in a kiss. “After that, baby? I’ll give you the whole moon.”

--

thanks for reading!

my masterlist - my marvel masterlist

#this is just filth honestly #steve rogers #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers oneshot

[wellhalesbells]

Can you tell us about How to Breathe 101?

Ah yes, the one I am actively, actually most trying to finish (before I got distracted by this week's fullmoonficlet prompt anyway). It's one of my favorite genres in fiction and in this specific fandom it's: Stiles fell first, but Derek fell harder.

It was originally just going to be a short fic about Derek learning to breathe in harmony with his pack. Since panic attacks are so woven into TW via Stiles, I kind of wanted to explore Derek having these kind of slow motion ones. Not necessarily because he wants to be alone but because that's what he knows, that's what he's gotten comfortable with, and holy shit there are so many people depending on him now, relying on him, and actually wanting to be in his space and how does he both accept that and allow himself to rely on that when he knows how transitory everything is?

I really, REALLY love when people miss their window - or, more accurately, perceive themselves to've missed their window and are now pining for someone they know once loved them. Inject that shit directly into my VEINS, please!

The plan was to have a much shorter progression but then I added in a more mage-y magic Stiles, with his power connected to growth and potential and blossoming (because no one can accuse me of being subtle LOL), and gave him an OC love interest so there was a distraction from any possible festering - I really didn't want Stiles to have even a hint of bitterness and that was a good way to be like: don't focus on the pit of despair, have casual sex! And also a good way to get across that Derek's love isn't possessive but rather focused around Stiles' happiness, which is always a big one for me (which is not to say I don't love jealous/possessive stuff, I DO, but sometimes that's just not what ya want). Then I set Stiles' magical edification in Ireland and got distracted with the wind over the bluffs and the sea crumbling cliffs and all that wild, fresh air there is to breathe and that's where I am at the moment.

Snippet:

Stiles takes him up over the bluff, fingers trailing currents as they walk, and they can see the cottage in the distance.  A dilapidated daffodil yellow and foggy gray (once white) thing that looks uninhabited.  It’s hilly terrain but clear as far as the eye can see.  The grass is buffeted up against their calves by the relentless wind and they can hear the ocean even if they can’t see it from where they are. “It’s beautiful,” Derek says. Stiles breathes deep.  “Magic, right?”  He throws a wink over his shoulder before holding out his hands, palm parallel to the ground on either side of him, and closes his eyes.  The long blades of grass shift and swirl and shoot up and up and up, getting larger and wider and greener as they grow, striving to tickle Stiles’ fingers as they pass his knees and hips.  They keep going until Derek has to tilt his head back and the strands twist at the apex above their heads and Derek can’t help the startled sound he makes as the tunnel forms, extending further with every step Stiles takes. The grass doesn’t stay static either, it’s still rustling, braiding itself together, sliding into every empty place, forming an arch above them.  The day darkens around them as they’re sealed off from above. Derek stares, first at the living thing surrounding them, and then at the man in front of him. “I had no idea you were capable of this.” “Neither did I.”  Stiles half-laughs.  “I don’t think Maire or Ciaran did either.  Honestly, I think it freaks them both out a little so, y’know, discretion?  I’ve been trying to do that whole thing.  Cutting back on it a little, pretending everything’s a bit harder, doing a little less than I’m actually capable of.  Not that—I mean, they’re supportive and all but I get the feeling this is new and therefore different for them.”  He drops his hands and the grass unbraids, slithering, sinking back down into the earth as though it was never anything else.  He’s not looking at Derek.  “It’s nice not to have to hedge.” He waits a beat then waggles his eyebrows over the pun and Derek rolls his eyes.

Wip list is here!

#!ask #wips #my writing #thanks so much for the interest! #maybe i will one day finish this fic??? MAYBE???? #sterek #teen wolf